The Pleasure of Your Company
by kbrand5333
Summary: "What if" A/U launching from 4x11. WARNING: Very dark in places, Very 'M'. Character rape, sorry. All I ask is you don't kill me until it is finished.
1. Gwen

**So: I don't generally do A/Ns on my stuff, but this one needs a disclaimer (apart from the very obvious "I don't own Merlin, blah blah blah," that I never bother with anyway because it should be patently obvious that I don't). There are going to be some difficult and dark parts in here. There will be things you may not enjoy reading. There may be some things you will HATE reading. All I ask is that you trust me and stick with me. Don't kill me. See it through. I promise it will all be okay. Okay? Okay.**

"You have suffered much for one so young," Helios says, seemingly sympathetic to Gwen's fabricated tale of a murdered family and her flight. "Now those days are truly behind you," he adds decisively, lifting his goblet to his lips. He drinks, eyeing her appreciatively once again.

Gwen forces a small smile, looking down. She averts her eyes out of discomfort under his scrutiny, yet he interprets it as coyness. Her lovely almond-shaped eyes bewitched him as soon as he saw her on the dirty ground of the pigsty, a sword to her throat.

"Where will we be going, my lord? If I may ask," Gwen speaks again, not wishing to create an awkward silence.

"Just a few leagues to the east, to my fortress. There you will join my staff, yes, as a serving wench, but I promise you," he pauses, taking a moment to appreciate how her light brown skin glows in the firelight, how the aubergine silk compliments this coloring, the delicate swell of her breasts as they rise and fall with her breathing, "you will not have a difficult life."

"Thank you, my lord, but I am no stranger to hard work," she says, taking a drink in order to hide behind her goblet.

"And that is precisely why you shall be given the least strenuous tasks," he says, his gruff voice maintaining that same soft timbre.

_I'm sure he means to sound gentle, perhaps even seductive, but it is nothing but a growl to my ears,_ she realizes, unconsciously comparing his voice to Arthur's voice. His clear, authoritative voice, rising above the ranks of his knights, commanding their attention with barely a syllable. His soft, gentle voice, a caress against her skin when he speaks her name.

She once again finds her hand drifting up to touch the ring about her neck, just to touch it, a reminder of the man she still desperately loves, the man she inexplicably betrayed. A reminder that she deserves less than what Helios is offering her. She was happy to muck out the pigs. _I'd be happy to sleep with the pigs, for that is what I deserve._

"What meaning does that ring hold for you?" Helios asks suddenly, and she drops her hand.

"It is all I have left of my family, my lord." Another lie. _Just add it to the web._

"I simply ask because I could not help but notice that your hand seems to stray to it often. And your eyes turn very sad when it does."

_He is observant. Will have to be mindful of that._

"As I said, my lord, I no longer have any family. This was my mother's. The only thing I have left," she says, her voice breaking slightly, for while the words are fabricated, the emotions are true.

"I have no designs on your ring, do not worry, Gwen," Helios smiles reassuringly at her. "You may keep your heirloom. I am not a cruel man."

"Thank you, my lord," she says, finding she is grateful that he called her Gwen instead of Guinevere. _I don't think I could have borne that._ She stifles a yawn as he reaches for another grape.

"But you are tired. I should let you retire; you have had a trying day and we will be riding at first light," he says, standing and holding his hand out to her.

"Thank you, my lord," she says, taking his hand and standing. His hand is large, thick, calloused. _Arthur's hands are large, but slender and graceful. Calloused, yes, but refined._

_ Stop comparing them._

Gwen curtseys to Helios, exiting the cave-like chamber in which they dined, heading towards the one where she had changed earlier. She finds a skin laid out on the floor for her to sleep on and a blanket folded at one end.

She removes the veil from her hair, laying it atop the dress she had been wearing when he had taken her. _Taken? Kidnapped? Saved? Who knows?_ She lays down on the skin, the thick fur providing some cushion, but she's certainly slept under worse circumstances.

Pulling the blanket over her body and tucking it under her chin, she lay a few moments, eyes open, fearing that sleep would not find her again tonight. She remembers how Helios' eyes had raked over her body when she appeared in the outfit he provided for her. It had made her insides shiver uncomfortably, seeing his thinly-veiled desire rise to the surface.

_I wonder how long I'll be able to keep him at bay. Something about him makes me fear for my virtue._ She shivers again, willing the image of his lecherous eyes from her mind.

Guinevere's eyes grow heavy and drift closed, and she falls into a thankfully dreamless sleep. She is so exhausted that her usual nightmares, nightmares that alternate between Arthur killing Lancelot and Lancelot killing Arthur and Arthur killing her, don't even seem to have the energy to form.

xXx

Gwen feels the touch of fingertips stroking her cheek, caressing her skin, pulling her from her slumber.

_Arthur,_ she thinks, forgetting her banishment, unable to think of anyone else that would caress her so, and she smiles and stretches a little before opening her eyes.

But it is not Arthur's twinkling blue eyes gazing lovingly down at her, but Helios' cold black eyes, studying her thoughtfully. The smile slips from her face immediately.

"Were you expecting another, Guinevere?" he asks as she sits up.

She squeezes her eyes closed, her full name on his lips feeling like a sword in her heart.

"Gwen, if you please, my lord," she says quietly, standing and slipping her shoes on.

He hands her a goblet of water, watching her, puzzled. "Very well, Gwen it is, though your full name is quite lovely."

"I am sorry, my lord, it just… pains me to hear it at the moment," she confesses truthfully.

"You are a puzzle, my beauty," he says.

"Forgive me. It's just that… my father was the only person to call me by my full name, and I guess those wounds are still much more fresh than I realized," she lies again, though it is really a half-truth.

_The only person I will allow to call me Guinevere is a golden god who wears a red cloak and sits on the throne of Camelot,_ she silently vows, turning away so Helios will not see the errant tear.

"I've brought you some fruit. We need to make haste this morning, patrols are about," he says, heading towards the door.

"Yes, my lord." She doesn't question why he wants to avoid the patrols, but if they are Camelot patrols, she had best avoid them as well.

"I have a horse prepared for you." Helios ducks out, leaving her to get ready.

They ride a distance, Helios taking care to keep Gwen nearby.

_She is a quiet one,_ he muses. _I have a feeling she keeps many secrets. I will enjoy discovering them._ He allows his eyes to rove her slender form once again, appreciating her petite yet curvy body, watching it sway with the horse's footsteps.

"You are a quiet one, Gwen," he finally says.

"Oh, I am sorry, my lord," she apologizes.

"Do not apologize," he chuckles. "It is refreshing to meet a woman who doesn't feel the need for mindless chatter."

"I only speak if I have something to say, my lord."

"Indeed. Silas," he calls to a nearby henchman.

"My lord," the thickly-built, gruff man drops back to ride beside Helios.

"Send scouts ahead. We are nearing the fortress. I wish for an uneventful arrival."

"Yes, sire," Silas answers and spurs his horse forward.

They reach Helios' castle before midday, and Gwen looks around as they pass through the gates, comparing it to the glory of Camelot.

_It is an ugly pile of stones,_ she observes. _Dingy and grey. The people look tired and put-upon. Smaller than Camelot._

They dismount, and Helios helps Gwen down from her horse, his hands lingering at her waist a moment longer than she would have liked, and her mind flashes back a year, when she returned to Camelot, escorted by knights, to be welcomed by Arthur's kiss in the middle of the courtyard.

"Your sadness will fade with time, Gwen," Helios reassures her. "Your life here will be pleasant."

_You have no idea what you are talking about,_ Gwen thinks. _This wound will never heal._ Still she manages a small smile and she turns away from him to take the small bag containing her few belongings.

They walk up the steps to the doors, Gwen stepping carefully as some are starting to crumble. They are met by two maids, one stocky and a few years older, with brown hair and rosy cheeks; the other tall and beautiful with hair so blonde it is nearly white.

"Ah, Lorica, see to it that lunch is prepared immediately; I am quite famished. Frida, this is Gwen. She is a new serving wench. Show her to the servant's quarters and find her a bunk."

"Yes, my lord," Lorica, the dark-haired one bobs and scurries off to the kitchen.

"Yes, my lord," Frida echoes, her voice bearing an accent unfamiliar to Gwen's ears. Gwen pauses in front of the tall blonde, realizing that the other girl is looking at her sympathetically, as if they have a shared misery.

"Frida, is it?" Gwen asks.

"Ya," she answers. "G… Gven?" she struggles with the name.

"Yes, Gwen," she smiles.

"Forgive me," they start to walk, "I have trouble vith that sound," Frida explains.

Gwen smiles again. "I don't mind." Away from Helios, she finds herself relaxing a bit, comforted by this strange young maid with the strange accent. She doesn't notice Helios turning to watch her walk away, but Frida does, and ushers her down a corridor, out of sight as quickly as she can without being obvious.

"Thank you," Frida says. "My speaking gives me trouble sometimes."

"You have a lovely accent. It's unique."

"The other girls tease me because of it," she says plainly.

"Well, that's hardly fair," Gwen says, frowning. "I'd wager that not a one of them can speak more than one language, and probably do not even speak the one they do that well," she says decisively.

Frida laughs at this. "I never thought of that."

They turn another corner and reach a room in the corner of the castle. "This area is for the 'serving venches,'" she says, and Gwen can hear the implication in her voice, though she does not yet fully understand it.

"Ve all share, two to a room. I have an empty bunk in mine, if you do not mind sharing vith me," Frida ventures, hoping that this new girl will take her offer.

"Yes, I would quite like that, especially since you're the only person I know," Gwen smiles.

"Good enough for me," Frida answers, leading Gwen to a door on the end and pushing it open.

The room is small, with two narrow bunks on either side. There is a small privacy screen, a very small wardrobe, a few candles, a small table, and one chamber pot. There is one small window, and somehow Gwen feels fortunate to have that much.

xXx

Gwen spends the rest of the day with Frida, pleased to discover that she is a pleasant, intelligent, and friendly girl. There is a sadness about her, though, that Gwen notices is common amongst almost all of Helio's "serving wenches."

_This seems a pleasant enough place to work. I'm certain that Helios takes advantage of the prettier among them, but they don't seem to be treated poorly otherwise._

She also notices an unspoken line of demarcation between the serving wenches and the rest of the servants. It is subtle; a look down a nose here, a jealous remark muttered there, but there is definitely a rift. She also notices that the women not dubbed "serving wenches" are either older, not pretty, or both. There are few male servants, and most of them work in the stables.

Thankfully, they do not encounter Helios at all.

Late at night, back in their room, in the safety of the dark after Frida has blown out the last candle, she asks the question.

"Gven?"

"Yes?"

"Vat is it dat you are running from?"

Gwen pauses a careful second. "What makes you think I am running from something?"

"Ve have all run avay from someting. Dat is vy ve are here. Helios, he has a… a skill for finding beautiful young ladies who have run avay from someting. Promises a better life, protection from whoever is pursuing. I suppose it is better."

_So that's his game. _ "My family was murdered," Gwen starts, going on to spin the same false tale she told Helios the previous day. "…And Helios actually saved me from one of his own men, who was holding me at swordpoint," she finishes.

"So sad," Frida says. "I vill tell you my tale, then, since you have shared yours."

"You don't have to if you do not wish to," Gwen says, but she is indeed very curious.

"I am running from my vater."

"Vater?"

"Um, my papa."

"Oh, your father."

"Ya. He probably vishes me dead now."

"What happened?"

"I come from a land far to the north called Nor Veg. It is cold and harsh but beautiful. I miss it very much. My clan lived near the sea and it is by the sea that ve lived. Mainly fishing."

Gwen listens and waits, wishing she could picture the sea in her mind's eye.

"Ven I vas a little girl, my vater arranged for me to be married to the son of his great friend Lars. His name is Per. He is a good man, or vas, but I did not love him."

"Your heart belonged to another," Gwen guesses, her fingers groping for Arthur's ring at her neck.

"Nils. Ve did not mean to fall in love; ve resisted it, tried to shut our feelings avay. I vas promised to another. Forbidden to Nils. His vater was a goatherder, so Nils also a goatherder. Not good enough for my vater; I vas to be married to Per, the mighty fisherman."

"Of course," Gwen says sympathetically, already knowing that Frida's story is going to rip her heart out with its parallels to her own truth.

"Two nights before my vedding vas to take place, Nils and I arranged to meet in secret in an old barn on the edge of our village. Ve gave in to our passion dat night, knowing ve vould never have another opportunity."

"But wouldn't Per suspect something on your wedding night?" Gwen asks, knowing it is a bold question.

"Perhaps. A voman's virtue is not so important to my people as it is to yours, I have learned."

"Oh," Gwen says dumbly.

"But Nils had a sister, Agnete, who vas jealous of me. She had been desiring Per for herself, even though she knew he vas promised to me and she could never have him even if he vasn't. She somehow found out about Nils and me and she told Vater."

"Oh, no!" Gwen gasps, a tear slipping from her eye now. It rolls across her cheek and falls into her ear.

"Vater came storming in, but he vas too late; we had already done it. It was the best and the vorst night of my life. Vater ripped me from Nils' arms and threw me at my older brother Erik, who tossed me over his shoulder and carried me avay, to home."

Frida takes a shaky breath. "Outside, I could hear the svish and the sickening crack as my vater chopped off Nils' head vit his battleaxe." Her voice is a shaky whisper.

Gwen doesn't even try to hide the sobs that are coming forth now. She grips her ring tightly in her palm, the edges of the metal digging into her flesh.

Frida recovers herself after a long moment and continues. "My brother carried me back to our house, dumping me in my room and locking me in. I vas screaming, crying, throwing things. Out of my mind vith grief. I knew that my vater would be fetching Per and the two of dem vould be returning to make their decision."

"Decision?" Gwen asks, but somehow she already knows the answer.

"Vater had already killed my Nils. It vas vithin his rights to kill me as vell. Unless Per vould still be villing to marry me. Even if he vas, I vould be beaten severely. By both of dem."

"Oh, my…"

"I knew Erik vas guarding my door, and I knew that he vould never let me out. So I dressed varmly, took all dat I could easily carry, including the small amount of coin I had hidden, and climbed out my vindow into the night."

"Where did you go?"

"I ran south to the next village and had secured passage on a ship by the next morning."

"You weren't followed?"

"Ya, I vas. But I am nimble, able to duck through much smaller places than the men. The men of my clan, of my village, are very large, like bears. Bigger than Helios, even. Dat often makes dem slow. I am slender and very fast, like the fox. I ducked through places that I knew they vould have problem. The bear cannot catch the fox."

"You are smart, Frida."

"Not smart enough," she sighs. "The voyage south vas long and hard. Sea very rough. I became very ill." Frida pauses again, then continues. "I had never gotten the seasickness before. So I knew something vas different."

"I got to shore and collapsed, bleeding lots from below," Frida says. "I vas taken to a physician in the village ve had landed at and I learned dat I had been vit child. As I thought."

"I'm so sorry," Gwen says, her face still wet with tears.

"Ven they found out I was not married or even a vidow, they turned me out of the inn. Even though the child vas gone. Gone before he even had time to form. Dat was ven Helios found me. He vas looking for new 'recruits' for his 'army,' and collected me as vell, to be a serving vench."

"How long ago was this?" Gwen asks, wiping her face.

"I have seen two vinters here."

That night, sometime before dawn, Gwen awoke to hear Frida babbling in her sleep in her native language. Pained, frantic words. She could make out "Nils" and "Vater;" even "Erik" once. Several "Nays." But it was Nils, over and over, coupled with screams of "Babyen min" that broke a new part of Gwen's already shattered heart.

Tears began to fall afresh for Gwen, thinking of how the retelling of her story must have brought painful dreams to the surface for Frida. Opening her eyes, she reaches across the small room and captures one of Frida's flailing hands, gripping it tightly, hoping to reassure the girl that she is not alone.

xXx

One week later, Gwen and Frida are in the laundry, washing bed linens. They have a level of comfort and trust that built quickly between them that allows them to easily share silence, to work together without feeling obliged to engage in mindless prattle.

_It's been pleasant enough. Not a life of leisure, but I'm not working any harder than I did in Camelot. Less so, if I am honest. Food is adequate and I have a comfortable bed, even if the pay is ridiculously low._

She's encountered Helios often enough, and he has continued to be a gentleman, though his lecherous eyes sometimes betrayed him, following her hips as she walks to refill goblets, drifting to her breasts as she bends to retrieve a fallen piece of linen.

She has also heard Helios' creepy right-hand man, Silas, stomping around the servants' quarters in the evenings, specifically the corridor where the serving wenches sleep. She has heard the knocking and the call of "My lord Helios requests the pleasure of your company." She has heard these things, and they make her blood run cold, but she is too afraid to ask Frida about it. They have not been visited in the week she has been there, so until the time comes, she will play ignorant.

_Frida is no innocent, but does Helios know that I am still a maiden? Does he care? Will I be called upon one night, and will he force me if I do not wish to? Is he even calling these girls for_ that _reason?_ Fears so deep that she dares not voice them. Even thinking them makes her a bit queasy.

Gwen looks over and sees Frida rubbing furiously at a stain.

"Add some salt to the spot, that should help," she recommends.

Frida reaches for the jar, and gives Gwen a sideways look. "Gven?" she asks quietly.

"Yes?" Gwen has learned to recognize that tone.

"Can I ask, who is Artur?"

"Arthur?" Gwen repeats, trying to keep her voice cool.

"Yes. I only ask because you speak his name many times in your sleep almost every night."

_That often?_ Gwen thinks. "He was my brother," she lies, keeping her eyes on her work.

"He must have been very special to you," Frida says.

"Yes, he was," Gwen agrees, but does not elaborate. _Do not touch that ring. Do not touch that ring._ "I am sorry if I wake you."

"I sleep lightly most of the time and not vell anyvay," she shrugs. "And you have probably heard some of my mutterings as vell," she adds. "I know your first night here vas disturbed, because I told you the story. I always dream when I tell the story."

"It's really all right, don't worry. I can't understand what you're saying anyway," she chuckles, reaching over to squeeze her friend's hand.

Frida laughs a little, too, but says, "I am sure you recognize a few names."

"Yes, but it's all right. We both have our memories to deal with, but as long as we have a roof over our heads and a bed to sleep in, I'm not going to complain about a little chatter disturbing our sleep."

"You do have a vay to make things seem not so bad," Frida says, furrowing her brow. "I do not know the vord for it in your language."

"Perspective," Gwen supplies. "It means appreciating what you have because it could be a lot worse."

"Ya, dat is the vord."

xXx

Two nights later, Frida and Gwen are in their room, chatting about the events of the day, when a knock at their door cuts Gwen off mid-sentence.

Frida stands and opens the door to see Silas hulking in their doorway. Her motions are automatic, stilted, almost.

"My lord Helios requests the pleasure of your company," he says, looking directly at Frida.

"Yes, sir," she says, glancing back at Gwen for a moment.

Their eyes meet, and in that split second, Gwen knows that her suspicions are truth.

Frida follows Silas out the door, and when it closes, Gwen collapses on her bed, clutching her ring in her hand, rubbing the textured surface with her thumb, her heart pounding furiously.

Gwen gradually drifts to a fitful sleep, waking at the slightest noises. The wind blowing against the window. A bat flitting past. The distant hoot of an owl. Only when their door opens again and Frida returns does Gwen realize what it is that she had been listening for.

She listens as Frida removes her shoes and changes into her nightdress. She hears the creak as she climbs into her bed.

_Dare I say anything?_ Gwen asks, and realizes she's been holding her breath.

"Gven?" The faintest whisper.

"Yes?" she answers, letting her breath out.

"You are a maiden," Frida says, not asking; she just knows.

"Yes."

"Learn from my mistake, then, one I made when I first arrived. Ven Helios calls for you, and he vill, do not resist him. Do not argue or fight him. You vill not vin, I promise. It vill be painful enough, do not add to your own pain," she says quietly.

"Is he… cruel?"

"Only if you do not follow orders. Some of the venches actually enjoy their time vith him. Surely you've discovered that ve are not really his serving venches."

"I had a suspicion, but I was too afraid to ask."

"Ya, dat's vat I thought. But your suspicions are correct. Ve are his… vat is dat vord? His harem."

Gwen gasps slightly. She had heard of such things, tales of powerful men in faraway lands who have scores of women at their disposal, keeping them all, using them all, sometimes calling them all "wife," but she never thought she'd ever personally experience something like that.

"What happens if a girl becomes with child?"

"He does not, um… I don't know how to say."

Gwen thinks a minute. "He doesn't spill his seed inside?"

"Ya. It is messy."

Gwen's lips curl in disgust at the thought. _Where does he…? I don't think I want to know._

"Try to sleep, Gven," Frida says quietly.

xXx

Gwen is walking through the courtyard with a basket of herbs when a commotion catches her attention. She looks over to see one of Helios' guards kicking a young boy on the ground.

Before she can think otherwise, she hurries over.

"Get up, you weed! You're supposed to be fetching my horse!" the guard yells, lifting his fist now.

Gwen dives between them and almost receives the blow. The guard stops his fist just in time as she yells, "Stop! Can't you see he's hurt?"

"Not that you probably care," she adds icily, bending down to the boy, gently freeing his foot from where it is stuck in a hole in the cobbles.

The boy smiles weakly at her, tears in his eyes.

"There, now," she says, kneeling down, taking his foot in her hand and moving it experimentally. "Does that hurt?"

He shakes his head no.

"What's your name?" she asks, looking at him, furrowing her brows as he says nothing, but fishes into his vest pocket.

"He's nobody; a useless lump of skin from the stables," the guard says gruffly from behind her. Gwen turns her head and looks at him, glaring at him as if to say, _Oh, are you still here?_ She turns back to the boy, who is holding out a small piece of parchment.

_My name is Matthias. I cannot speak._

"Matthias, my name is Gwen," she smiles, returning his parchment to him.

"You can read?" the guard asks incredulously.

"Yes, I can read. Can't you?" she snaps. "Don't you have a horse you're supposed to be getting?" she asks crossly, standing. She reaches her hand down to Matthias, helping him up.

"Impertinent wench," the guard says, raising his hand again. Gwen doesn't flinch.

"Baul, stay your hand," Helios' voice booms from a small distance away.

"My lord, I…"

"I know what you were about. Be off before my patience wears out," he says.

Gwen curtseys to Helios, looking down.

"Gwen, you are very brave," Helios says to her, his voice turning softer.

"Thank you, my lord," she says, not looking up.

"Is the boy injured?"

She looks at Matthias, and he takes a couple of experimental steps. He looks up and smiles a little.

"It looks like he's all right, my lord."

"Very good," Helios declares.

"My lord?" Gwen says before she can stop herself.

"Yes, my beauty?"

"Um, you may want to consider having that cobble repaired," she points. "That is why he fell."

"I will have someone see to it immediately."

As he walks away, Gwen remembers the look in his eyes just before he turned away. _Oh, no. I've done it now._

Matthias touches her elbow and she turns to see his concerned face.

"I'm all right, Matthias, thanks."

xXx

"My lord Helios requests the pleasure of your company."

He waited until the next night to summon Gwen. She had spent the balance of the previous day avoiding him, and when Silas did not come knocking last night, she relaxed a little, but her sleep was disturbed by dreams of Arthur, terrible dreams where he is finding all manner of punishment for her, her pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears, her cries of help unheeded by Elyan and, most surprisingly, Merlin.

She woke up with a tear-streaked face and red eyes. One glance at Frida confirmed that she had disturbed her roommate's sleep as well.

"Sorry, Frida," Gwen had apologized immediately.

"Do not apologize. Your soul is haunted, Gven," Frida answered empathetically, though she is growing more and more suspicious about this Arthur person. _I do not think he is really her brother._

"Yes, sir," Gwen says, standing, following the example Frida set two nights ago. She slips her shoes back on and follows Silas into the dim corridor.

He says nothing; she says nothing. _Does he enjoy fetching Helios' whores for him? Does it bring him some sort of perverse pleasure?_

Silas knocks twice on Helios' door.

"Enter," his voice calls, and Silas opens the door but does not enter.

Gwen steps through, her heart thumping through her chest. _Just kill me. Kill me now. Kill me horribly and slowly, cut me up piece by piece and feed me to wolves, anything but this._

"Gwen, my brave beauty," Helios says from his place by the window. He is facing away from her, clad only in silk trousers, holding a goblet.

"My lord," she says quietly.

"I have been watching you these weeks," turns to face her. "Wine?"

"Please," she says. _Get me drunk enough so I won't remember any of this._

He chuckles as he pours for her and hands her a goblet.

"You have a grace about you. A… nobility that I find quite intriguing," he continues his original train of thought.

She drinks her wine, really wishing to knock the entire thing back in one go, refill it, and do it again, but she resists.

"You are certain you were only a commoner before I found you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, my lord. My father was a blacksmith and my mother a maid." The first truthful thing she's said about her past.

"I see. Forgive me for doubting you, but when a serving wench stands up to a guard to defend a stable boy, I do take notice," he says, and Gwen realizes that he's gotten quite close to her.

"My, but you are beautiful," he says, reaching up to run a single finger down her cheek and under her chin, lifting her face so he can look at her.

"Thank you, my lord," she says, willing her eyes to meet his.

"You are scared," he observes, seeing the fear in her eyes. "You look like a rabbit caught in a trap."

"Forgive me, my lord," she drops her eyes.

"Is it possible that you are yet a maiden?"

"Yes, my lord," she whispers, hoping fruitlessly that the truth will somehow make him change his mind.

"Mmm, very interesting, indeed. How the men of your village must have pined," he grins lasciviously. "Don't be frightened, little rabbit."

"I cannot promise that, my lord."

Helios laughs now. "I enjoy your candor, Gwen."

She takes another drink of her wine, downing the rest of it, no longer caring about decorum. _He knows I'm petrified. May as well quaff some wine._

"Now, now, not so fast," he cautions, taking her goblet from her and setting it on the table.

_Bugger._

"Come," he takes her hand and pulls her towards his large bed, and somehow her feet follow. "I will be gentle," he promises, then adds, "as long as you are cooperative."

He stands a short distance from her, still within arms' reach. "Take off your dress," he commands.

_He wants to watch me? How much humiliation must I endure?_

_ Don't argue. Don't resist. Remember Frida's advice._

"Yes, my lord," she says, willing her hands to the laces of her apron, removing it and setting it carefully aside on a nearby bench. Then she pulls the ties in the back of her dress as he watches, interested yet somehow detached.

She takes a deep breath and removes the dress, setting it with her apron. She turns back to him, now wearing only her cream-colored shift; thin, concealing very little.

"Proceed," he prompts, "and don't forget your shoes."

She slips those off first, trying to delay baring her skin to him.

"You are beautiful, Gwen, let me see how beautiful you are," he rumbles.

_I am sure he means to sound seductive, but it is nothing but a growled command to my ears._

She slides the straps from her shoulders and the shift slips down over her body, becoming a puddle on the floor surrounding her feet.

_Do not cry. Do not cry._

"Magnificent," Helios assesses, "as I expected."

"Th- thank you, my lord," she whispers, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast.

He reaches his hand out to her and touches her arm. She jumps slightly when his fingers make contact and slide down to take her hand, pulling her over to the bed.

"Lie down for me," he says.

Standing proudly next to the bed, he removes his trousers, pausing a moment so she can appreciate his body as he has done hers.

Gwen looks no further than the middle of his chest, not wanting to see _that_ part of him that is about to invade her and take the gift she only ever wanted to give to Arthur.

Helios doesn't seem to notice or care that she doesn't look at him, climbing on the bed next to her.

"Relax, little rabbit, you can enjoy this, too," he says simply, his eyes raking over her one more time before he reaches his hand out again, this time boldly closing one giant rough palm over a breast. She jumps again.

"Now, if you jump every time I touch you, we're not going to get anywhere and I may lose patience with you," he says, a mild threat.

"I am sorry, my lord," she whispers. She closes her eyes a moment, trying to collect her thoughts, and Helios takes advantage, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

Her eyes fly open in surprise, but she does not jump. She feels his lips curl into a smile against hers, and a moment later his tongue is running along her lower lip, asking for entrance.

_If I don't let him, he will find some way to force me,_ she reminds herself, and wills her lips apart.

"Good," he mutters, pulling back just for the single syllable before returning, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth, kissing her deeply.

_It feels like he is trying to swallow my entire head_ Gwen thinks, trying not to be repulsed by the feel of his large, snaking tongue. She even presses back with hers a little. Helios interprets this as participation; really she is just trying not to choke on his tongue.

"Your lips feel as good as I imagined," he says, breaking the kiss. His hand is still on her breast. He gives it another experimental squeeze. "A little smaller than I like, but firm and nicely shaped."

_Why do I suddenly feel like a piece of livestock?_

Helios' hand roves her body, splaying across the flat plane of her stomach, his broad moving casually, carelessly, as he explores her skin, concerned only with his own pleasure.

"Now," he says, climbing over her, "I want you to touch me," he says, taking her hand in his and guiding it to his shaft.

Gwen swallows hard as she feels his firm length pressed into her palm. Her fingers close around him without being told, and he smiles.

"Mmm, very good, Gwen," he praises her. "Now move your hand on me. Slide it up and down."

She does, focusing her eyes on the bedpost over his shoulder. Anywhere but on him.

"_Very_ good," he says, his eyes closing. "You have nice, strong hands."

He touches her stomach again, sliding it lower.

"Don't jump now, I'm going to touch you," he says in her ear, and he prods gently with one finger.

She gasps at the sensation. _No one has ever touched me there before._

He frowns slightly. "Gwen, my beauty, you are not wet enough. It will hurt more if you cannot get wet for me."

"My lord?"

"Let me see if I can remedy this problem," he ponders, dropping his head to kiss her again, repeating his same head-swallowing technique. He brings his hand to her breast again, this time sliding his rough palm against her nipple.

She squeaks, her mind protesting while her body's reflexes rebel. _The sensation is somewhat pleasurable, but it is caused by the wrong hand._ Helios removes his lips from hers and kisses her neck once, twice, a third time.

_The wrong lips at my neck._

He flicks her nipple with his tongue and she squeaks again. So he repeats his action, moving his hand below again, probing with his finger again, this time deeper, actually pushing inside.

Gwen gasps, not with desire but with shock. Helios thinks it to be desire, and moves his finger inside her, smiling slightly now that he's found the beginnings of some wetness. He pulls his finger out and touches another part of her, the place that she's touched a few times out of curiosity and frustration.

She makes another involuntary noise in the back of her throat.

_The wrong hand._

"Yes, get wet for me," he purrs, moving his finger on her. She grips the bedsheet with her free hand and bites her lip.

Returning his lips to her nipple, he suckles it briefly, slipping his tongue around in concert with his finger below.

"Let go," he says, indicating that she should release his manhood.

_Thank the gods._

Helios kneels between her legs, and without so much as a warning or apology, he thrusts into her, swiftly and powerfully.

"Ah!" she cries out as the pain rips through her. She digs her fingernails into her palms and tears fall from her eyes.

_Surely he's just ripped me in half,_ she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut as Helios pounds into her, apparently having no consideration for her pain.

"Oh, so tight," he grunts, his hands gripping her hips as he thrusts, the fronts of his thighs slapping against her. "So good."

_So painful, so wrong, so humiliating._ Gwen longs to hold Arthur's ring in her hand, to draw even a trace of comfort from it, but she dare not, as he's allowed her to keep it, thinking it a family heirloom.

Instead she continues to dig her nails into her palms, pressing until she feels the wetness of blood forming on her palms.

Suddenly Helios pulls out, then moves his own hand on his shaft, quickly jerking it along its length until he shoots forth a thick, hot, cloudy liquid.

Shoots it forth all over Gwen's stomach and chest. Gwen has to swallow back the bile that rises to her throat at this action.

Helios collapses beside her with a sigh. "You did well, little rabbit," he says.

_Do not tell me you're going to leave me here with this_ stuff _all over me, you disgusting brute._ "Thank you, my lord." A whisper is still all she can manage.

"It only hurts the first time, I promise," he says, finally groping to one side of his bed for a small towel.

"I know, my lord." _You are wrong. It will always hurt. You just will not see it._

"Clean yourself," he says casually, tossing the towel at her before standing and retrieving his trousers.

_Charming._ Gwen wipes Helios' seed from her torso, cringing at the strange pungent smell of it. She folds the towel and sets it aside, then stands gingerly.

_Ouch._ "My lord?" she asks.

"You may go." He is at the window again, looking out over the courtyard below, drinking from his goblet, just as he was when she arrived.

She quickly dresses and exits his chambers. Halfway to her room, the wave of grief, anger, and humiliation washes over her, and the tears start in a massive flood. She sinks to the floor in the corridor, sobbing into her hands for a few minutes.

_Get up. Get up. You don't want someone finding you here like this,_ she reminds herself, then stands and walks painfully back to her room.

The room is dark, but Frida is awake.

"Gven, I vaited up for you," she says simply.

"You didn't have to," Gwen says, her voice shaky. She feels broken, used. Cheap. Like a cheap whore.

"Ya, I did."

Gwen goes to change, and she sees that Frida has prepared a washbasin for her to clean herself up with.

"Thank you, Frida," she says quietly.

"The vater is not very varm, but it vas the best I could do."

"It is perfect. Thank you so much for caring about me." _No one else does._

Gwen cleans herself, wincing as she wipes the blood away. She scrubs furiously at her stomach, trying to erase any trace of Helios from her body. When her stomach is pink and raw, she finally slips into her nightdress.

"Come here," Frida says, like a mother to her child. She scoots to the far side of her narrow bed and pulls back the covers.

Without a word, Gwen climbs in, and lets her friend's arms wrap around her, comfortingly.

"I never had a sister," Gwen says. "Always wanted one."

"I have a younger sister. Lucia. I only hope dat her life turns out better dan mine."

"Frida…" Gwen says, her voice turning shaky again.

"You don't need to say anything now, Gven." She strokes her hair and starts singing a strange song, a lullaby in her native tongue.

The dam bursts inside Gwen and she sobs, weeping unreservedly into her friend's shoulder. Frida's voice falters once or twice as a few tears slip from her own eyes.

Gwen cries until she can cry no more, falling into an exhausted sleep.

During the night, Frida is not surprised to be woken by Gwen's torment.

"Arthur… I'm so sorry, Arthur… I love only you, never any other… Forgive me, Arthur… I had no choice…"

_I knew it. But I am sure she has her reasons._

"Arthur…"

xXx

Gwen is sore the next morning, but she stubbornly keeps her discomfort hidden, not willing to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that Helios had not only had her the previous night, but had taken her maidenhead as well.

_None of their damn business._

She is also exhausted and even more heartbroken than she already was, not realizing that was even possible.

_This is your life now. A whore in the harem of a power-hungry warlord._

The castle is bustling this morning, and it takes some time for Gwen to learn that Helios is entertaining an important visitor at lunch. The hall is cleaned, the best dishes prepared and served on the finest silver.

Gwen hovers in the doorway of the hall, prepared to help serve, when she hears a familiar voice talking with Helios.

It is a voice straight out of her nightmares, a voice she never thought she'd have to hear again.

"I trust you will enjoy your brief stay with us, my lady," Helios says, escorting his guest into the hall.

"You certainly know how to greet a guest, Helios," Lady Morgana replies. "I only hope that you are as skilled and as powerful as the display you put on."

"Now, you wound me," he says, flirting. "You think this is all for show? I assure you, my lady, I am as just as _skilled_ and _powerful_ as I appear." He is clearly making insinuations.

Gwen feels faint, her heart pounding as she starts to panic at the prospect of encountering Morgana.

"Vat is wrong, Gven?" Frida asks quietly.

"I… I cannot serve lunch today," she whispers back. "Can you cover for me?"

"Of course, but…"

Gwen sighs. "I cannot go in there. She… she knows me," she admits.

"Lady Morgana Pendragon _knows_ you?"

"Yes. I… I've been lying about my past. I'll tell you everything later, I _promise,_ Frida, but please, _please,_ don't make me go in there."

Frida is sympathetic to her friend's anxiety, so she agrees.

"Thank you," Gwen hugs her quickly. "If Helios asks for me, try to cut him off before he even says my name."

"Um…"

"Thank you Frida, I will make it up to you somehow," Gwen says and hurries off.

_I need to find out what she is doing here. I need to find a hiding place._

Gwen quickly walks the corridors surrounding the hall, and finds a small door. She opens it and can hear Helios and Morgana talking, so she crawls in. She runs into something large and warm and almost shouts out, ruining her cover.

"Matthias?" she whispers, peering into the dark. He waves.

"I need to listen. I need to hear what is going on in there," she says, not even bothering to wonder why he's in there. He scoots aside and lets her crawl past. Now she can hear and see as well, as she discovers that she is behind a grate low on one wall.

"You have the plans?" Helios' voice asks.

"Not yet. My ally within the castle has not been able to procure them yet."

_Ally? She has an ally in Camelot?_

"Morgana, I grow impatient! You assured me you would get them!"

"Helios, calm yourself. My man is a trusted member of the court, he has to bide his time."

"If he is a trusted member of the court, can he be trusted by us?"

"I trust him more than I do you, Helios."

He laughs. "Who is this ally?"

_Yes, who?_

"Ah-ah, I will keep that secret. He is a close advisor to dear King Arthur. That is all I will say."

_Agravaine. That slime._

"You have one week. Pressure your man. My patience grows thin," Helios growls.

"Patience is a virtue, Helios, and one I see you do not possess," she purrs back.

"Ah, but I do possess other admirable qualities, my lady, some of which I would be most willing to share with you."

Gwen watches as Morgana leans in close and says, "Help me bring down Camelot, and once I am on the throne, you may have anything you desire."

_I need to tell them._ Without a word, Gwen hurries from the crawlspace, dragging Matthias with her.

Leaning in close, she asks him, "You heard what they said?"

He nods.

"I have dear friends in Camelot. I need to help them."

He nods again.

"Do you know how to get to Camelot?"

He nods emphatically.

"Are you brave enough to deliver a very important message there for me?"

He nods, pulling her to a part of the castle she's never seen. It is an unused guest room, and he reaches into a desk and withdraws a parchment, a quill, and ink.

Gwen looks at him, realizing for the first time that he is taller than she is. _He must be at least fifteen._ "Can you read?" she asks him.

No.

"Probably for the best, in this case," she says, and quickly writes a message, folding it carefully and tucking it into Matthias' vest, deep inside.

He jumps at her touch, and she mutters, "Sorry."

He blushes.

"Now, Matthias. Take this message to Camelot, to a man called Merlin. He is my closest friend. He is also the king's manservant an the court physician's assistant." She goes on to describe his appearance, then decides to take another small parchment, writing the name _Merlin_ on it.

She hands this one to him and he looks confused.

"So you can ask for him. I don't want to write it on the note so he won't be connected to it if something should happen."

Matthias nods solemnly, understanding, and tucks the name inside another part of his vest.

"Try not to let the king see you."

What? Why?

"He is not cruel, but… let's just say that if he knew you were bringing a message from me, you might not be very well received by him. I have been banished from Camelot. By the king himself. You do not need to know why."

His eyes grow wide.

"One more thing," she bends and writes another quick message, this time writing the name _Aland_ on the front.

"Take this as well. Matthias, I want you to stay in Camelot. Don't come back here. Your life will be better there. Give this note to Aland, he is in charge of the stables."

He nods, a look of awe on his face. He reaches for her hand and squeezes it to his chest.

Thank you.

She leans up and kisses his cheek. "Thank you for this. Now go. As quick as you can."

Matthias runs down the deserted corridor, out a hidden back exit.

xXx

"He did ask, Gven," Frida says in the darkness where they share all their secrets. Silas has already been and gone, and thankfully neither Frida nor Gwen was on the menu this night.

"He did?"

"Ya. I told him you had a sudden stomach problem," she chuckles.

"So he thinks I spent the afternoon with a chamber pot," Gwen laughs with her.

"I thought it vas a good excuse. Dose tings come on quite quickly and vittout varning sometimes."

"You are smart, Frida, as I have said."

"Thank you. Not many people tell me so."

"Pity." She pauses a moment. "I owe you the truth now."

"Ya. But Gven?"

"Yes?"

"I know already dat Artur is not your brother."

"Too much talking in my sleep," Gwen sighs.

"Especially last night. You said you loved him. Over and over. Apologized to him. Over and over."

"I would imagine so."

"You vill feel better ven you tell me," Frida prompts.

"Come sit next to me," Gwen says, shifting to sit sideways on her bed, her back against the wall.

Frida crosses the small space in one step and tucks herself in beside Gwen.

"My Arthur is actually King Arthur of Camelot. Against all logic and every rule, Arthur and I fell in love. I was the Lady Morgana's maidservant, and that is why I couldn't let her see me or know I am here."

"Vy are you not vit him?"

"Because I did something unforgivable, something I cannot even explain, and instead of executing me, he banished me from the kingdom." She reaches down and takes the ring in her hand, rubbing it fondly. "This is the betrothal ring he gave me."

**Just a reminder: DO NOT KILL ME. Rest assured, parts of this were as hard for me to write as it was for you to read. I cried more than once while writing. This is not going to be a massive opus; the chapters are long but they will be few. And, again, I promise things will end well. –kb.**


	2. Arthur

Arthur and the knights finish the hunt, during which Arthur felled a magnificent stag and Princess Mithian rather impressively took down a pheasant in the middle of its short flight.

That evening, all were gathered in the throne room as their king, on one knee, publicly and rather hesitantly officially asked for Mithian's hand in marriage.

There was polite applause from all, some smiles. No cheers or hearty congratulations; all knew that this was a political marriage and all were wise enough to keep their lips firmly sealed about the king's _other_ recent engagement.

Only Merlin could see the doubt in Arthur's eyes. The pain still lingering, hiding behind his mask of a smile. Only Merlin was brave enough to neither applaud nor smile.

Merlin had nothing against Mithian. She was a lovely person, beautiful, charming, seemed to have both feet on the ground. She even asked him to give her a chance, and he promised he would. But this is not right. This is not how it is supposed to come to pass.

She isn't Guinevere.

At the celebratory feast following the royal engagement, Merlin is uncharacteristically quiet as he attends his king.

Mithian says something apparently witty, and Arthur laughs, but then sees Merlin's sullen demeanor.

"Merlin, has some sort of bug crawled up your trousers? This is a happy occasion," he says, trying to sound more cheerful than cross, and almost succeeding.

"No, my lord," Merlin says dutifully, manages a very weak smile, then walks away to refill his pitcher.

"He doesn't like me," Mithian leans over and tells Arthur quietly.

"Has he been rude to you?" Arthur asks, ready to dispense punishment.

"No, no, nothing like that," she assures him. "I just… get the impression that he doesn't think I am the correct match for you, my lord."

"His opinion is of no consequence," Arthur says dismissively, but she sees the cloud that passes across his handsome face.

"Ah, but I disagree, my lord. His opinion is very important to you. It is very obvious that he is more than just a servant to you," she says, gently pressing.

Arthur hesitates a moment. "Yes, he has proven to be a trusted friend and even advisor in some cases. But this matter is none of his business."

"Even so, it is important to me," she says quietly, not understanding the servant's disapproval of her and confused over why it troubles her so.

"I will speak to him," Arthur says, patting her hand once.

"I have already done so, my lord," she admits. "I asked him to give me a chance, and he promised he would. But perhaps the engagement being made official is making it difficult for him."

_I know exactly what is troubling him, unfortunately._ "Merlin, um, lost a dear friend recently as well. It's been very hard on him. That could account for some of his mood."

"Oh, I didn't realize…" she says, feeling awful now.

"You couldn't have known, it's all right. It will be fine, really. I will still talk to him, though. As a friend."

"Thank you," she says, smiling and placing her hand over his.

Merlin sees the exchange from across the room and sighs resignedly.

_This isn't right,_ a nagging voice keeps reminding him.

Arthur walks Mithian back to her chambers after the feast. He is starting to get more comfortable with her, he finds. _Her company is pleasurable. She is kind and caring. Beautiful. Was even concerned about Merlin's opinion. I don't know if I could grow to love her totally and completely, but I do like her and she will make a fine queen. And who knows? Perhaps one day my heart will heal enough to accept and possibly return her love._

"Goodnight, Princess," Arthur says, turning to face her.

"Goodnight, my lord," she answers, smiling sweetly.

_Okay. You can do this,_ he thinks, steeling his nerve and leaning towards her.

His lips meet hers softly, briefly, but not too quickly. When he pulls away, she is smiling at him, her eyes soft and shining.

"Goodnight," he mutters hastily, and turns to walk to his own chambers.

_Nothing. Nothing at all. Like kissing a relative,_ he realizes as he strides quickly through the dimly-lit corridor.

_I did try to put some feeling behind it. But I had none._

_ I cannot force feelings that do not exist._

He turns the corner and heads to his room, slamming the door behind him.

_Her lips too thin, her skin too soft. Too pale. Her hair too straight, her eyes the wrong shape. Her body too thin, too straight, lacking soft lush curves at her hip and her breast._

Arthur pinches his eyes shut. _Damn him, I hate it when he's right._

"MERLIN!" he bellows, suddenly angry that his servant isn't here when he needs him. He plops down at his table, scowling, and leans forward across the table, his head on his arm.

It is in this position Merlin finds him when he arrives two minutes later, breathing heavily from running all the way up.

"Where the hell have you been?" Arthur asks.

"Helping clean up the great hall," Merlin says, thinking it should have been fairly obvious. He looks at his master. "What's wrong?"

"I kissed her," Arthur says, his voice flat.

"Oh."

"Exactly. _Oh._ I kissed her, and she was lovely and I could tell it meant something to her, but it meant nothing to me, and all I could do was think about _how she wasn't Guinevere._"

He looks up at Merlin. "Stop smiling."

"Sorry, Sire," Merlin says, but he does not stop.

"I feel ill."

Merlin says nothing. He hoists Arthur to his feet to help him dress for bed.

"I'm being completely unfair to Mithian," he says, pulling away from Merlin, pacing. "I mean, how would you feel marrying someone whose heart can never be yours?"

"I don't—"

"You'd feel deceived. Betrayed. Hurt, that's how you'd feel. I can't… I can't do that to someone, knowing how that feels myself."

"It's not quite the same—"

"Well, it's close enough! That one kiss simply solidified my suspicions." He stops walking, opens a window, and stares outside.

"What suspicions?" Merlin asks, but he knows.

"That my heart can only belong to Guinevere and none other."

"I know that, my lord. And I'm happy you finally realized it."

"But I just proposed officially a few hours ago."

"So un-propose."

"_What?_" Arthur turns around and gives his servant an incredulous look.

"Talk to her. Explain to her what you just told me. She's… she's a kind person, Arthur. Seems forgiving. She will understand."

"How do I tell someone that I can't marry them because I don't love them when it is a political marriage?"

"Arthur, you never were interested in a political marriage."

He sighs. "I know. I just feel like a heel."

"You'd be a bigger heel if you went through with it," Merlin says.

"Good point."

"Arthur, you say that it would be unfair to Mithian to enter into this marriage under false pretenses, for lack of a better term."

Arthur nods.

"But what about you? Do you think it's fair to you to plunge forward into this when your whole heart is not in accord?"

Arthur laughs a humorless laugh. "My whole heart," he says quietly, looking out the window again. "My whole heart is out _there_ somewhere, doing only the gods know what."

"And what of Guinevere?" Merlin asks hesitantly. "I know her well, Arthur, as well as you do. She has only ever wanted for you to be happy. Regardless of what she may have done."

"I know that," Arthur says, his voice very soft.

xXx

Arthur avoids Mithian all morning, keeping himself shut in his room, claiming to be busy. Not a lie; he is busy with his scribes, drafting up an agreement that he hopes will help ease the sting of the broken engagement.

He sends a note, inviting her to lunch in his chambers. Merlin delivers it to her, and he cannot help but feel a twinge of guilt at her joy.

"Thank you, Merlin, I was beginning to feel that he was avoiding me this morning," she says cheerfully. He plasters a smile on his face, nods, and leaves.

_I hope she is as understanding as I assured Arthur she was._

At the appropriate time, Mithian goes to Arthur's door, and knocks.

"Come," his voice bids her enter from the other side.

Mithian opens the door to find him standing by the table, which has been set for two. The smile on her face quickly fades when she sees his serious expression. Merlin comes around to hold a chair out for her, and she and Arthur both sit.

"Is something troubling you, my lord?" she asks immediately, not wanting to have to wade through endless minutes of small talk, waiting for him to get to his point.

Arthur raises his eyebrows in surprise, but answers, "Yes, there is, actually."

She looks at him as he drops his eyes to his plate, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and somehow she knows.

"You're calling off the engagement, aren't you?"

"Yes," he says quietly. "You are a wonderful person, Princess, and Camelot would indeed be fortunate to have you as her queen."

"But…?"

"But I cannot marry you."

"I see."

"I don't think you do," he looks at her. "If my father were alive, he would be here with a sword to my neck, insisting I do what is right, what is 'good for the kingdom,' as he would say. But one of the things my father and I could never agree on was that what may be perceived as good for the kingdom is not always good for the king."

"Thus making it bad for the kingdom," she finishes.

"Thank you," he sighs. "But let me get back to my original point: you have done nothing wrong. My backing out of this contract has nothing to do with you as a person. I like you, Princess, and as I said, you will be a fine queen one day. You bear all the qualities that any kingdom would be proud to find in its queen."

"So…" she ponders his words a moment, and the light dawns. "Your heart belongs to another, then."

"Yes. I know now, after… last night, that it shall always remain so. I kissed you last night because I felt I should, I felt it was appropriate given the circumstances. But it was also a test, of sorts. For me. I do not know if I passed or if I failed that test. All I know is that I do not believe it would be fair to you to make you my wife knowing that I am unable to fully give you every part of me. I would grow to resent you and hate myself, and Camelot would suffer as a result."

She pokes the chicken on her plate with her fork, but does not eat. Neither of them have taken a single bite yet.

"Nor would it be fair to you, my lord," she says sadly.

Arthur's eyes flash to Merlin's for a second, and they share a moment of recognition, remembering that Merlin had said the same thing last night.

She sees the look pass between them and has to ask. "Forgive my impertinence, my lord, but… it isn't Merlin, is it?"

"Isn't Merlin for what?" he asks, then sees the look of abject horror on Merlin's face. "Good Lord, no!" he exclaims, making a disgusted face.

"I am sorry, but I had to ask. You see, the two of you _are_ unusually close, and what with Merlin's somewhat cool attitude towards me and all, and it isn't entirely unheard-of…"

Merlin takes two deliberate steps away from Arthur.

"I was only asking because if it was he that had your heart, I might have still been willing to go through with the wedding, knowing that it was more a contract than anything."

"No. Not Merlin," Arthur says authoritatively, pushing his plate away now.

"Tell me, then… who is it that trumps a princess? What great family is she from?" she asks, curious now about this mysterious woman. She has seen no sign of any lady paying undue attention to the King, has seen no surreptitious glances.

"None. She is… she is no one. And yet she is everyone."

"Oh?"

"She is the daughter of a blacksmith," he says, slightly embarrassed, not for Guinevere, but he does not know the princess well enough to know whether she would take insult to being thrown over by a commoner.

"Interesting," she says noncommittally. "And for her you would risk everything? This kingdom?"

"That's just the thing, Princess. Without her, they are nothing to me."

She pauses a minute, mulling over his touching words. "May I meet her?"

"Ah, um, I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment," Arthur says, looking quite uncomfortable now.

"Why is that?"

"She's… away right now."

"Arthur, you've shown me respect enough to be honest with me thus far. I would appreciate it if you would continue to do so," she says, calling him out.

He sighs, his face pained. "You remember me telling you last night that Merlin had recently lost a dear friend?"

Mithian gasps. "She's dead?" _He's casting me aside for a dead girl?_

"No, she's not dead. She's just… gone. And she was a dear friend of Merlin's."

"Still is," Merlin chimes in.

"Where has she gone? Does she know you love her?" Mithian is very intrigued now.

"I don't know where she is. And yes, she does know."

"And she loves him," Merlin adds, looking hard at Arthur.

"Forgive me, but I am very confused," she says, leaning back in her chair. "You love each other, but she's 'gone,' and even though you don't know where she is, you sit and pine for her to the point where you cannot even think of anyone else. What _happened,_ Arthur?" She looks at him levelly.

"It is a very long story, and one that is too painful for me to recount in full right now. But the result of it is that she has been banished from Camelot. By me. I banished her," he admits, looking away.

Mithian has never seen so much pain in one man's face. "And you will not tell me why?" she asks gently.

"I cannot bear it yet. Though…"

"Yes?"

"I am beginning to think that I acted rashly."

"You did," Merlin confirms, earning him a glare from Arthur. "We don't know all the facts yet, only what we saw, and I, for one, am willing to believe that darker forces were at work there. I only don't know how to prove it…" he trails off.

"Merlin, what are you on about?" Arthur asks crossly.

"Just thinking aloud, my lord," he says, waving a hand dismissively.

"Curious," Mithian says, finding, to her surprise, that she feels sympathy for Arthur instead of anger, and is saddened that she cannot meet the woman that has consumed his heart. "I would give up my own kingdom to be so loved," she says quietly, almost to herself.

"All I ask is that you forgive me, Princess," Arthur says quietly.

She says nothing, but takes a drink of her wine. Arthur holds out his hand to Merlin, and Merlin places a scroll on his palm.

"Princess, as a sign of my… remorse, of my fervent wish to remain allies with your kingdom and its people, I would like to offer you and your descendants the disputed lands of Gedref."

"You would give up your ancient claims?" she asks.

"I have no desire for war," he says, "or to grieve you any more than I already have."

"Such an offer cannot be rushed into," she says reasonably.

"I've had my scribes draw up an agreement. If you're happy with the terms, I'll sign forthwith."

"And if I refuse?" she asks, taking the scroll from him.

He hesitates, not really having an answer for her. "It's all I can offer. I do so most humbly."

"You are asking me to accept land as a consolation prize." She looks him in the eye.

"I realize that, Princess. If I could offer more, I would."

She looks over the parchment a minute. "I will sign on two conditions, my lord," Mithian says, looking up.

"Anything," he says.

"When you bring her back and make her your queen, invite me back so that I can meet the woman who has banished your heart from Camelot."

"Agreed," he nods. _If I can find her again; if she will return to me._ "And the second?"

"Tell me her name."

He looks puzzled at this strange request.

"If I hear it, I will send word," she explains.

"Guinevere," Arthur says.

Mithian cannot contain the small gasp at the sound of him saying his beloved's name. _It sounds like music; it sounds like a kiss, a caress. Would that someone speak my name in such a way one day._

xXx

"Arthur, what the bloody hell is going on?" Agravaine blusters, storming into Arthur's chambers later that afternoon.

"What are you talking about, Uncle?" Arthur says, not looking up from the parchment he is reading, idly spinning a quill between two fingers.

"I just saw the knights of Nemeth preparing to leave."

"That is because they are leaving."

"They have Princess Mithian's things and have her horse prepared!"

"I called off the wedding," he says calmly, still not looking at his uncle.

"What on earth for?"

"Because it was the wrong thing to do, Uncle," Arthur says, setting his quill aside.

"Oh, good grief, this isn't because of that… _servant,_ is it?"

"Her name is Guinevere, and my reasons are mine."

"You should have heeded my advice and ended it with her. None of this would have happened then."

"Agravaine," Arthur says, standing now. "I've come to realize that much of the advice you've given me has turned out poorly. Sometimes almost disastrously, like the near-war with Caerleon. So you'll understand when I tell you that I'll be keeping my own counsel for a while."

"Arthur…"  
"You may go."

"But…"

"Good _afternoon,_ Uncle." Arthur sits back down and pointedly returns his attention to his parchment.

Agravaine strides from the room just as Merlin enters. Merlin glances at the older man, and sees that his face is like thunder.

"What's his problem?" Merlin asks, uneasy. He hasn't trusted Agravaine for weeks.

"He's angry about my canceling the wedding. Thinks it's Guinevere's fault," Arthur says, leaning back in his chair, relaxing now.

"He troubles me, Arthur," Merlin says, glancing at the doors, wondering if Agravaine was heading off to visit Morgana.

"Yes, he's… not turning out to be the wisest advisor, is he?"

"Indeed," Merlin says noncommittally. _He's also a traitorous piece of pig dung._ "You don't think…"

"What?"

"You don't think he's… after your throne at all? That he may be giving you bad advice on purpose?"

Arthur laughs. "No, I don't think that. I think he maybe doesn't know as much as he thinks he does about running a kingdom."

"Hmm."

"Not that I know any more than he does, really, but at least if I make a bad decision on my own, I can properly take the blame for it, knowing it was _my_ mistake, not someone else's poor counsel that I just followed."

"I don't trust him," Merlin says plainly.

"What makes you say that?"

"Just… a feeling I have," he shrugs, wishing he could say more. _Every time I try, Agravaine out-cunnings me and I end up looking a fool._ "I came to tell you that the princess is preparing to leave, my lord."

"Thank you, Merlin. I'll go see her off, then." He stands and heads for the door, pausing near his servant. "About Agravaine," he says.

"Yes?"

"Keep an eye on him. You're making me nervous about him now, and if I'm going to be paranoid, you're going to get more work," he says, poking his servant in the chest.

"Yes, Sire."

xXx

"Arthur? What are you doing out here?" Merlin asks, finding Arthur wandering the gardens under the moonlight.

"Walking."

"Looks to me like you're standing and staring."

"Have you come out here to pick nits or do you have a purpose?"

"I was just wondering where you were. Normally you're preparing for bed now. Or table, as the case has been lately."

Arthur turns around, a single sprig of lavender in his hand, spinning back and forth between his thumb and forefinger.

"What have I done, Merlin?" Arthur asks, walking to a bench and sitting, contemplating the tiny purple flowers clustered around the long gray-green stem.

"You did the right thing, my lord. As I knew you would."

"I sent away a perfectly lovely woman and gave away quite a large tract of land because I still love Guinevere. But how is it that I still do? How can I love someone who has betrayed me? How can I love her _that much?_" His voice breaks.

"Destiny, Arthur."

"I knew you were going to say that," he mutters darkly.

"Ah, but it is the truth. Gwen is destined to be your queen, just as you are destined to be a great king."

"I fear…"

"What?"

"I fear I will not be able to be that great king without her as my queen. Without Guinevere here, I feel like a lost traveler. I walk and I walk, but I have no direction, no destination."

He lifts the flower to his nose and inhales the scent, closing his eyes. "We don't even know where she is, Merlin. Even if I was one hundred percent certain that I wanted her to return, and I'm not, we do not know where she's gone."

"You do want her back. And you will find each other."

"How can you be sure?"

They look at each other. "Destiny," they both say. Merlin smiles.

"Merlin, what was that you were saying at lunch about 'darker forces at work?'"

"Just a thought that occurred to me," he shrugs.

"You think there was an enchantment?"

"It would not be entirely unheard of around here, Arthur," Merlin says archly.

"Ha," Arthur laughs once, without much humor. He smells the lavender again.

"Arthur, I watched Lancelot walk into the veil. I saw his suicide to save us all. There is no way he could have come back."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that either this recent Lancelot was an impostor, or someone used some pretty powerful magic to bring him back from the dead."

"I'm willing to hear any explanation that would make any sense out of this whole affair. But even if Lancelot was false, that still doesn't explain why Guinevere ki— did what she did."

"I know." Merlin kicks at some stones at his feet and picks up a stick sitting nearby. He traces patterns in the dirt.

"I miss her, Merlin."

"I miss her, too, Arthur. She is one of my closest friends, you know. The sister I never had." He leans over and smells the lavender now himself, smiling sadly.

"I know, and I am sorry."

Merlin draws a circle in the dirt with his stick. He stares at it, and something clicks far back in his brain.

"Arthur?"

"What?" he asks glumly.

"What if Gwen was enchanted as well?"

xXx

Just over a week later, Merlin is walking through the lower town, heading back from the marketplace where he has gotten some supplies for Gaius. He nods and smiles at a few of the townspeople, humming to himself.

He doesn't realize he is being watched. Followed.

_Tall and thin, with pale skin and black hair,_ she had said. _Bright blue eyes. Large ears. Always wears either a red or a blue neck scarf. Brown boots. Usually cheerful._

Merlin feels a tug at his elbow. He turns to see a boy he's never seen before trying to get his attention. He looks nervous and underfed, but he has intelligent eyes and a serious demeanor.

"Yes?" Merlin asks. Matthias pulls out his identification and hands it to Merlin.

_My name is Matthias. I cannot speak._

"Matthias? How can I help you?"

He pulls out the slip of paper that says _Merlin._ He holds it up, points to the name, then points to Merlin.

Is this you?

"Um, yes, I'm Merlin," he says, peering at the note. The handwriting is familiar somehow.

Matthias gestures wildly, patting his chest, opening his vest to show him an end of the parchment hidden there, pointing to it and then to him.

"You have a message for me?"

He nods furiously, then places a finger in front of his lips: _Shh._

"Secret?" he says quietly.

Matthias nods again.

"From whom?"

Matthias thinks. He bites his lip, unsure how to answer, if he should even try.

"You don't know?"

No.

"You don't know how to tell me?"

Yes.

Matthias makes the _shh_ gesture again, then clasps his hands together.

Please?

"Come with me," Merlin says, motioning that the boy should follow.

They reach Gaius' chambers, which are thankfully empty. Matthias hands him the parchment, and Merlin takes it.

"Are you hungry?"

Matthias nods, and Merlin hands him an apple and a hunk of cheese. He sinks his teeth gratefully into the apple as Merlin opens the note.

_M,_

_MP meeting with warlord H to discuss invasion of C. Do not trust Ag, he is working for MP. H is waiting for some plans, don't know what for. Try to convince A to be on guard._

_ I miss you, G._

"Oh, no." Merlin says aloud. He's not sure who 'H' is, but the label of warlord concerns him.

He sits and stares, letting this information sink in. _Confirmation that Agravaine is a traitor. Morgana in league with someone to try and take Camelot. Again. Plans for what?_

"Matthias, Gwen gave you this?"

Matthias nods, smiling broadly.

"Do you know who 'H' is, the warlord? She didn't use names, only first letters." He points to the 'H' on the parchment, showing the boy.

He nods, but frowns.

"You don't know how to tell me," Merlin guesses. "And I'm guessing you can neither read nor write."

He shakes his head sadly.

"That is inconvenient. Do you know what is in this note, though?"

Matthias nods, then shapes his hand into a half-circle, tilting his wrist, a question in his eyes.

"Something to drink?"

Yes.

Merlin fills a metal mug with water and hands it to him along with a piece of bread, since it looks like the boy hasn't eaten in a while.

"Gwen is with this 'H' person?"

Matthias gives a sad nod.

"She is a servant for him?"

Yes. He doesn't have the heart or the ability to give the whole truth.

"I think I need to tell Arthur."

Matthias shakes his head no fervently.

"She told you not to, didn't she? Well, I am overruling that, because I know Arthur wants her to come back home to him."

Really?

"Yes, really. You have a very expressive face. That is helpful."

He smiles.

"But who is 'H?'" he ponders. "Is he someone we should worry about?"

Yes!

"Damn."

Gaius comes back in, and sees Merlin and his guest.

"Merlin, who is this, and why is he eating my lunch?" Gaius asks.

"This is Matthias. Sorry about your lunch, but it looked as though he hasn't eaten in days, and it was just kind of _there…_"

"It's all right, Merlin," he chuckles. "Matthias, then? I'm Gaius, the court physician. Where are you from?"

"He cannot speak, Gaius," Merlin says.

"Mute, eh?" he asks, heading over to the boy, looking at him. "Fascinating. Open," he says, and Matthias opens his mouth.

Gaius peers inside, his eyes studying, looking for any sign of defect.

"Gaius, you can probe him later. He's brought a message from Gwen."

"What? Let me see," he holds his hand out. Merlin passes it over.

"It's all right, she would allow it," Merlin reassures Matthias when he sees his troubled expression.

"Do you have any idea who the 'H' she refers to is? Matthias knows, but he cannot read or write, so apart from what would surely be a very long and frustrating game of charades, we have no way of knowing. Unless you know of any warlords in the vicinity."

"Matthias, how long did it take you to get here?" Gaius asks, sitting opposite him. "How many days?"

Matthias holds up two fingers.

"You walked, you didn't ride?"

Yes.

"Two days' walk from here…" Gaius ponders. "From what direction did you come?"

Matthias looks around, and goes to a window. He points.

"From the east," he says, standing again and walking, thinking.

Suddenly he stops. "Surely not," he whispers. "Helios?" he turns and asks Matthias.

Yes!

"This is bad news. Not only that Morgana is in league with Helios, but that Gwen is working in his castle as well."

Matthias waves his hands.

"Yes, lad?" Gaius asks.

Matthias scrunches up his face a moment, thinking. He points to the letter.

"Gwen?"

Yes.

"What of Gwen?"

Matthias looks at the parchment, looking for the 'H' that Merlin had pointed to earlier. He finds it, and pokes it.

"Helios."

Yes.

Matthias points to the 'G' at the bottom, guessing.

"Gwen…"

The boy makes a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out and shaking his head no. Then he points to the 'H' again.

"Gwen does not like Helios," Gaius guesses.

Yes! Matthias nods quite emphatically.

"Will you be returning there?" Merlin asks suddenly, not wanting to throw this brave lad back to the wolves.

Matthias shakes his head no, then pulls out another parchment. Merlin reads it and gives it back to him.

"Aland will find work for you, especially if Gwen sends her recommendation," Merlin smiles. Matthias puts his hands over his heart.

"Yes, I know, everyone loves Gwen," Merlin says. "Even Arthur," he adds, looking at Gaius.

"He needs to know," Gaius says.

"I know. Come on, Matthias. I'll take you to Aland. Then I'll go see Arthur."

xXx

Aland welcomes Matthias without question into the stables, clapping him warmly on the shoulders after he read Gwen's quickly scribbled note.

"We all miss her 'round here, Merlin, it is good to hear she is well," Aland remarks, and Matthias and Merlin exchange a look.

_I don't know if "well" is the appropriate term._

"Yes, it was very good to hear from her," Merlin answers carefully. "Um, Aland, I do need to borrow Matthias for a while, but I'll bring him back as soon as I can," he adds.

"Oh, certainly, Merlin, I'll take that time to see about getting him a bunk and maybe a new pair of boots," he says, noting that Matthias' seem to be full of holes and nearly falling from his feet.

Matthias beams brightly at the notion, and Aland chuckles. "Well, when I say 'new,' that may actually mean 'gently used,' son. But they'll still be in better shape than those."

Matthias continues to smile broadly. He doesn't care if they're used; he's getting new boots!

They walk back to the castle, and Matthias tugs Merlin's elbow and gives him a questioning look.

Where are we going?

"I'm taking you with me to see Arthur," Merlin explains.

Matthias stops walking.

"It will be fine, I promise. Any yelling he does will be directed at me, I assure you," he laughs, pulling the boy along again.

"And I'm quite accustomed to it by now," he mutters somewhat darkly as they climb the stairs to the castle.

"Come," Arthur bids them enter.

"Ah, Merlin, finally learning to knock, then?" he asks. "Who is this?"

"Sire, this is Matthias. He… he brings an important message to us."

"Oh really? From whom?" he asks Matthias.

"Um, he cannot speak, Arthur. Just… read this," he thrusts the parchment at him.

Arthur sighs, taking the note.

He reads it. He reads it again. Then a third time, sinking slowly into his chair.

"This is from Guinevere," he whispers hoarsely.

"I know," Merlin says.

"She is at Helios' fortress."

"How did you…?"

"He is the only warlord in the vicinity with a name beginning with 'H' that would be slimy enough to join forces with Morgana. If what this note says is true."

"What? Surely…"

"Matthias," Arthur turns to the very overwhelmed-looking boy. "Please, sit."

"Arthur…"

"I just wish to ask him a few questions, Merlin."

"Matthias. You know what this note says?" He holds it up.

Yes.

"Did you hear this supposed conversation between Helios and Morgana?"

Yes.

"Did you _see_ the Lady Morgana?"

Yes.

"What did she look like? Was she blonde, like me?"

No. Matthias points to Merlin, to his head. Black hair. Then he grabs Merlin's hand and points to his arm. Pale skin.

"Yes, black hair and pale skin," Arthur allows. "Was she plain or beautiful."

Matthias' eyes grow wide and he fans himself with his hand.

Merlin laughs as Arthur makes a mildly disgusted face. "She is beautiful, Sire, even if her heart is ugly."

"She's my _sister,_ Merlin," he complains.

"Half-sister," Merlin corrects.

"Well, that makes her _half_ disgusting, then. Matthias, did she mention the name of her ally in Camelot?"

No.

"Hmm. 'Ag' can only be…" he hesitates to say it.

"Agravaine," Merlin supplies.

"Thank you, Merlin, I know," Arthur says sarcastically. "I'm still struggling with that concept. I know we're keeping an eye on him, but to label him an out-and-out _traitor_ based on…"

"So Gwen's word is not good enough for you, Arthur?" Merlin says, snapping finally, his voice growing cold.

Arthur says nothing, merely looking away guiltily.

"How dare you," Merlin says, walking closer to Arthur. "She risks this boy's life as well as her own to send you vital information about a planned attack on Camelot, and you cannot get past your own personal hurt to take her words for complete truth?"

Arthur looks down at the table, picking at the wood.

"She did not have to do anything, you know. She could have turned a blind eye, a deaf ear, and let your precious kingdom be taken unawares," Merlin leans forward, his palms on the table, closer still to Arthur.

"She could have chosen to crawl inside her own hurt, her own anger, and let this kingdom fall. Let you be overthrown and possibly killed by Helios and Morgana. And Agravaine," Merlin's voice is low, deadly.

"But she didn't, Arthur. She looked past her hurt and risked two lives to bring you this information. So that you could be prepared. So that you could _act._" Merlin pushes away from the table with a disgusted sigh and walks to the window.

Matthias stares. _I have never seen a servant talk to his master this way before. Especially not when his master is the king._

"Is she well?" Arthur quietly asks Matthias. "Guinevere, is she well?"

Matthias tilts his head to one side his face a slight grimace.

"She is healthy?"

Yes.

"Just… unhappy, then."

Yes. _Yes._

"Thank you, Matthias, you have been most helpful and very brave. Merlin will see to it that you have a room for the night and anything you desire, within reason."

"Um," Merlin says, turning back.

"What?"

"Matthias is to be staying in Camelot. Gwen told him not to return to Helios. He'd surely be punished, probably beaten severely for being missing for this long."

"I see."

"He has experience as a stablehand, and Aland has agreed to take him under his wing."

"Oh?"

"Gwen sent a note for him as well."

"I see. In that case, Matthias, you may return to the stables."

Matthias nods, stands, bows, and scurries out.

"Merlin."

"Arthur?"

"I am sorry. You are right. I should take her at her word. She took a great risk for Camelot."

"No, she took the risk for you."

"Find Agravaine for me."

"Yes, Sire."

xXx

It is after dinner by the time Merlin finds Agravaine, skulking into the castle via an entrance near the kitchens.

"My lord," Merlin calls, secretly enjoying it when Agravaine jumps.

"Oh! Merlin, you startled me."

"The king wishes to see you. He's been looking for you all day."

"Um, yes. I just need to pop by my quarters, and…" he hedges, and Merlin leaps.

"I do not recommend you keep the king waiting, sir. It is most urgent."

Agravaine regards Merlin a moment, studying him. He knows the boy knows something. He knows he's suspicious of him. But he's trapped now, and must go see Arthur.

"Very well," he sighs, trying to shove something into his tunic.

Merlin knocks.

"That had better be my uncle."

Biting back his smirk, Merlin opens the door and steps aside for Agravaine to enter.

"Sire, I apologize for my absence, I was just…"

"I don't really care where you were, Agravaine."

"Oh."

Arthur turns to face him. "Our conversation yesterday. Do you recall it?"

"Of… of course. You informed me that my counsel will not be sought out for an undetermined period of time."

"Yes, that's the one."

"What of it?"

"Convince me that I should keep you in my service as an advisor," Arthur says, leaning back against the table and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sire?"

"I'm not convinced that you are actually here to help me, Agravaine," he says plainly.

"Whatever gives you this impression, my lord?" Agravaine says, struggling to keep his cool.

Merlin hangs in the background, ever at the ready to spring if he is needed. He finds he is rather enjoying Agravaine's discomfort.

"That is none of your concern. Start convincing."

"Arthur, I…" he starts, then straightens his back, refusing to appear subservient to his _twerp_ of a nephew. "I promised your mother I would always look out for you," he tries.

"By advising me to kill Caerleon and almost start a war? By dragging Gaius' good name through the mud? By suggesting I break my own heart and end things with Guinevere?" He ticks off the list, walking slowly towards Agravaine now. "By shutting the doors to the citadel while I was gone, leaving the people of the kingdom to fend for themselves against the dorocha?"

"You—"

"Yes, I know about that. _Guinevere_ told me all about it. How you acted cowardly in my absence, turning your back on _my_ people. How she had to shame you into doing the correct thing in front of the council. How you seemed certain that I would fail in my quest."

"I never—"

"You did," Arthur says crossly, turning away again, muttering, "_That_ is the kind of counsel I need as king. Brave words from a wise queen."

Agravaine steps forward. "Sire, I only ever had your best interests at heart, the best interests of the kingdom…" he spreads his arms apologetically, and there is a metallic clunk as something slips out of his tunic to dangle from his belt. He drops his arms quickly to try and conceal the item.

"What is that?" Arthur asks, stepping quickly forward, yanking his uncle's arm away from his body.

Arthur looks at Merlin and nods. Merlin understands and exits the chambers, leaving the doors open.

"Agravaine," Arthur says, removing the ring of keys from his uncle's belt, "why do you have my keys? The keys to the vaults?"

Agravaine opens and closes his mouth, searching.

"Trying to think of a lie? Did my sister not provide you with an alibi? Was she really so arrogant to think that you wouldn't be caught?"

"Arthur, I—"

"Save it," Arthur says, his face and his grasp both as hard as stone. He looks up as Merlin returns with Gwaine and Percival.

"Take him to the dungeons," Arthur pushes Agravaine at the two knights. Gwaine seems only too happy to comply.


	3. Ambush

They camp for the night just outside of Helios' fortress, Arthur and a small collection of knights, numbering about twenty-five. He is counting on the element of surprise and the fact that most of Helios' men are common untrained thugs to give them an edge.

It is also difficult to stage a sneak attack with an entire army, so he has chosen to keep the party small, bringing his most experienced and elite men.

Matthias has proven quite useful in providing information about the fortress. He cannot write, but his memory is flawless and he draws exceptionally well. With Merlin's help with the labeling, he's given them detailed maps of the fortress, including hidden entrances that he is fairly certain only he knows about, secret corridors, and dead ends.

Arthur would not allow him to come along, citing his life would be in too much danger and he does not know how to properly wield a sword. He was crushed, but he understood, and smiled broadly when the king promised he would give him some training and that he would not return without Guinevere.

Merlin is quiet and pensive. He has been ever since Agravaine "disappeared" from the dungeons the day after he was imprisoned. Merlin hurried off as soon as he heard the alarm bells in the dead of night, following the hidden paths to Morgana's hovel, lying in wait for Agravaine to emerge. He knows that he couldn't have escaped the dungeons without Morgana's help.

_"That's an interesting trick," Merlin says calmly from beneath a large tree a short distance away from Morgana's dwelling. While he wants to find and deal with Agravaine, he does not wish to confront Morgana yet._

_ Agravaine jumps again, eyes searching._ The voice is familiar, yet, how…

_"Escaping from the dungeons like that. Unaided and all, I mean," Merlin steps forward, cool as can be, eyes locked on Agravaine._

_ "Oh, silly me, I'm sure your_ mistress _sent you some magic beans or something to allow you to slip away," Merlin says sarcastically, still calm._

_ "Merlin?" Agravaine squints in the darkness. It is then Merlin notices some other men with Agravaine._

Helios' henchmen, perhaps?

_"Where's Arthur?" Agravaine asks, stepping closer. "Surely you are not out here all alone."_

_ "Be careful," Merlin says, almost sadly._

_ "What are you talking about? Where's Arthur?"_

_ "He doesn't know I'm here."_

_ "Excellent," Agravaine says, his voice oily. "That way I'll be able to kill you much more easily," he says, raising his sword._

_ "Don't think so," Merlin replies, shaking his head slightly. He is still calm and unperturbed, and it is beginning to unsettle Agravaine a bit._

_ Agravaine steps forward, motioning that the men should follow and attack the servant. Merlin's chin lifts an inch, his eyes flash, and the entire party is thrown forcefully backwards, many of them crashing into trees and large rocks, their necks breaking._

_ Merlin steps forward, towards Agravaine's body, but stops when the older man gasps suddenly, his breath returning to him in a rush after having been knocked out._

_ Agravaine sits up, flabbergasted. "You have magic!"_

_ "I was born with it," Merlin says, a little proudly._

_ "You… you're Emrys!" he exclaims. _

_ Merlin says nothing, neither confirming nor denying._

_ "And you've been at court this whole time… at Arthur's side… right under his nose. I am impressed. You've been able to deceive him all these years…" he chuckles a little now, relaxing._

_ "Perhaps we're more alike than you think," he continues, and it is these words that are his doom._

_ Agravaine steps forward and holds out his hand companionably, thinking Merlin is his ally, that he is another turncoat, another one out to betray the king._

_ He stops short when Merlin suddenly raises his hand, palm out, his face serious. Deadly serious._

_ "I am not out to deceive King Arthur," he says, his hand still raised. "I live only to protect him from traitors like you. My magic is my burden that I must bear, used only for the good of the kingdom. To_ protect _Arthur." Merlin's eyes flash again, he twitches his hand, and Agravaine falls to his knees, grimacing in pain, held immobile by an unseen force._

_ "Grrllmmngg…" Agravaine tries to speak, but his tongue seems glued to the inside of his mouth._

_ Merlin takes a step forward, hand still outstretched. The closer he gets to Agravaine, the tighter he feels held._

_ "Yes, 'Emrys' is the name given to me by the Druids," he says, and Agravaine's already-bulging eyes fly to his, petrified._

This is the man of whom Morgana is deathly afraid, _he realizes. He also realizes why._ He is hardly exerting himself, talking calmly while holding me here. I've seen Morgana do magic, it takes her deep concentration and focus. He may as well be picking herbs.

_"You have_ no idea _what you are up against, Agravaine," he says slowly and quietly, moving closer. Squeezing tighter. "And neither does Morgana."_

_ "Mmmrrrrnngg…"_

_ "And I'm sorry to say that you won't get the opportunity to warn her," Merlin continues, tilting his head slightly. He takes one step closer to Agravaine, whose puffy face is starting to turn slightly blue. "You now know I have magic," he says, turning his hand again. Agravaine falls to his side._

_ "Unfortunately, the last thing some people, people who try to harm Arthur, learn before they die is that he is protected. By magic._ By me." _He closes his hand into a fist, and Agravaine gurgles and falls still. His tongue lolls limply from his mouth and his eyes are rolled back in his head. He is a grotesque, twisted wreck of a man._

_ Merlin turns and walks away, back to Camelot and his bed._

"Still brooding over Agravaine's disappearance, Merlin?" Arthur plunks down next to him and asks.

"No," says Merlin. _I'm brooding over the fact that I had to kill him._ "I'm just worried about Gwen. I hope she's all right."

"I know, I do, too. I don't know a lot about this Helios, but the rumors I've heard have not exactly been heartwarming."

"Oh? Like what?"

"You don't want to know. I wish _I_ didn't know."

"That bad?"

"He's big. And brutish. Fights dirty."

"You can deal with that," Merlin says simply. "I've seen you in battle enough to know."

"One of the rumors is that he keeps his own harem," Arthur says quietly, clearly disgusted by the concept and worried beyond measure about his beautiful Guinevere.

"No…" Merlin gasps, "No. I cannot even entertain that concept."

"I wish I was as certain as you. Or as foolish," he says, picking his fingernails.

Merlin cannot even get his brain around Gwen being forced into… _No. No. Just, no._

"Gwen is smart and strong. Resourceful," he says.

"I know that. That is the only thing that is keeping me sane right now," Arthur says. He stands and announces, "I'll take first watch."

"My lord, you need your rest," Leon protests.

"I seriously doubt I'll get any sleep tonight, Sir Leon, but thank you for your consideration," Arthur answers, his voice a touch sad, and he walks to the edge of the clearing and leans against a tree.

"I'll be so glad when we bring her back home," Leon says, sitting back down.

General murmurs of agreement are heard amongst the men. Since Gwen's banishment, Arthur has been relentless with their training, pushing them to the absolute limits, and they can do nothing about it. They've discussed talking to him about it, but none is brave enough to broach the topic, not even Leon. Not even Gwaine.

Not only that, they miss her. The knights were looking forward to having a queen who was gentle and kind, wise and calming, brave and good. Most of them have never known a queen in Camelot, and those that are old enough to remember Ygraine found themselves thinking fondly back to the days when a queen walked the corridors of the castle, a kind word and a gentle smile always on her lips.

"I won't," Elyan says quietly.

"What? She's your sister!" Gwaine exclaims.

"Yes, but I was hardly a brother to her before she left," he says morosely. "She's going to kill me and she has every right to do so."

"Elyan, this is _Gwen,_" Gwaine crosses to him and sits beside him. "No one is kinder, more forgiving. Okay, yeah, she may be cross with you at first…"

"You have no idea, Gwaine. Have you ever seen her get angry? Have you?"

"No," Gwaine answers honestly. He cannot even fathom it, in fact.

"I have," Merlin says, thinking back to the Lamia.

"She is tiny, but she is a force to be reckoned with," Elyan explains. Merlin nods in agreement, remembering her cry of "Get away from him!" as she rushed forth, sword outthrust.

"She will forgive you, Elyan. You know it deep down," Gwaine reassures him.

"Eventually," Elyan says quietly.

xXx

It is before dawn. Arthur kept watch the entire time, never asking for relief. Yet he is alert and sharp, outlining the plan in the center of his men.

"…And Elyan, I want you to go here," he points to a spot on Matthias' map of the castle interior, "and find Guinevere. Get her to safety."

"Um, Sire?" Elyan asks hesitantly. "I would like to request a different duty, my lord."

Arthur looks up, confused. "Whatever for? You do not want to rescue your only sister?"

"More than anything, my lord. Only… I do not think she will be very happy to see me."

"Elyan…"

"The last time we saw each other I was looking down my nose at her in disgust, Sire," he says quietly, "instead of supporting her as a brother."

"I will go," Percival volunteers quietly.

"Percival, I need you with me. I need your strength," Arthur explains.

"Begging your pardon, Sire, but you really don't," he argues, his voice gentle as always. Several of the knights chuckle at this statement. "I would like to go," he goes on, "because I will be able to keep Gwen safe if we encounter any opposition. Even if," he pauses, "even if, the gods forbid, she is ill or injured and I have to carry her."

Arthur chuckles. "I suppose you have a point."

"She is no bigger than a child to me, Sire, would be no burden at all," he smiles.

_And if she is troubled or scared, she will take comfort in his calm and quiet bearing,_ Arthur thinks. The giant man is such a puzzle, so complex, his carriage and demeanor a stark contrast to his massive size. _Except on the battlefield, of course._

"Very well, then. Percival: here," he points to the appropriate corridor on the map, "find my Guinevere and get her to safety," Arthur says, quietly.

The sun is not yet over the horizon, but the eastern sky is growing soft and pink. The Knights of Camelot silently stream in through a hidden gate in the wall around the fortress and surround the castle, easily subduing any of Helios' men they encounter.

Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, and Percival reach the hidden entrance. It is covered in ivy, almost completely obscured from view. Leon and Percival reach up and clear the vines, and Leon tries the door.

It groans quietly, but does not budge.

"Apparently this isn't the same door Matthias used," he mutters.

"Here," Percival says, stepping forward again. He turns the handle, gives a shove, and with a groan, the door opens.

He grins and gestures to the door. _After you,_ he seems to say.

"Show off," Leon grumbles.

They slip into the back door, and Arthur consults the map again.

"All right. We need to find Helios," he says to the men. "Percival, you know where to go?"

He nods.

"Do you need backup?"

"Nah," he says, and jogs off.

"All right. Stairwell, here." He points and gestures for them to follow. They get five steps along when the alarm bells sound.

"Damn!"

xXx

"Gven?" Frida sits up when the bells start.

"Yes, I'm awake," Gwen says, sitting up as well. She lights a candle.

"Alarm bells. Vat is going on?"

Gwen's heart skips. _Is it possible he got my message? Is he here? Did he strike before Helios?_ "I'm not sure… but…"

"Vat?"

"You remember when Morgana was here?"

"Ya."

"And you know how Matthias the stable boy has been missing since then?"

"Ya." She pauses. "Gven, vat did you do?"  
"I sent Matthias to Camelot with a message. You served that lunch; you heard what Helios and Morgana were planning," she says.

"Gven! Dat vas very dangerous!"

"I know, but I had to. You know I had to."

"So you think dat maybe Artur is doing a… vat is called…?"

"A preemptive strike."

"Ya."

"I hope so." Gwen bites her lip and looks at the door, listening for any commotion in the corridors.

"Vat do ve do?" Frida whispers, suddenly on edge.

"We get dressed."

Percival jogs through the corridors of the castle, not bothering to be quiet anymore since the alarm bells are already sounding. He casually punches out whoever crosses his path as he heads towards the serving wenches' quarters.

He finds the hallway, and is greeted by approximately a dozen young and beautiful faces peeking out of doors at him, bewildered.

Stopping, a bit overwhelmed, he surveys the faces. They are lovely and varied, but none are Gwen. Finally one speaks up.

"Who are you looking for, handsome knight?"

"Gwen. I need to find Gwen, if you please, my lady."

"Ooo, 'my lady,' is it? She's down there, the only door that's closed," she points.

"Thank you," he says, but, slightly horrified, he's thinking _Holy hell, what has this man got going on here?_

Gwen looks up when the knocking comes. "Gwen! Gwen, are you in there?"

"Percival!" she exclaims, recognizing the voice. She stands and rushes to the door, flying into his arms as soon as she sees him.

Percival doesn't even waver when her slight weight hits him. He laughs delightedly at the greeting and hugs her. "Good to see you, too."

Gwen pulls away, blushing, then turns to Frida. "Come on," she says, beckoning.

"Percival, this is Frida. She's coming with us," Gwen says definitively.

"Gven, I…" Frida says, stepping nervously forward nevertheless. _Her friend is as big as the bear,_ she cannot help thinking. _But he is gentle like the lamb. And also very handsome._

"I told you I would make… something up to you, didn't I? I don't remember what it was anymore, but if you think I am leaving you here, my sister, you are quite mistaken. _Come on._"

Frida smiles and joins them as they step into the corridor.

Percival stops dead in his tracks at the sight of all the other young ladies now standing fully in the corridor, staring at them, fear and hope in their eyes.

He looks at Gwen. She nods, and he turns to them all. "Anyone wishing to come along is welcome. I cannot promise anything, but you never know if you don't try."

The girls all stare for a moment, and finally one says, "Truly?"

"Yeah. Come on, then," he says, jerking his head towards the exit and starting to walk, his sword in his right hand and Gwen's hand in his left. The serving wenches scramble for shoes and wraps and tumble from their rooms, following.

They shriek and gasp as Percival leads them along, easily felling any guards that try and stop him. At one point two guards attack, and Gwen rips her hand from his, pulls the dagger from his belt, and stabs a guard in the thigh before he is run through by the knight.

"Thanks," he says, smiling. She hands him his dagger back. "Hang onto it for now."

After a short time, the shrieks and gasps are replaced by appreciative murmurings. Some of the maids with stronger constitutions and competitive natures even let forth a few quiet cheers. They reach an open area near the front of the castle, and Arthur and the others are across the way. Both parties stop moving.

"Guinevere," Arthur's voice is quiet, but it resonates through the room.

Gwen turns at the sound of his voice, her name being spoken in that heart-stopping way, something she never thought she'd hear again.

Her eyes meet his and she gasps very slightly. Percival's dagger clatters to the floor. Then the world goes black.

xXx

"Gwen!" Percival reaches for her, trying to cushion her fall as Arthur and the knights cross to them. Frida falls to her knees, pulling Gwen's head into her lap, taking her from the large knight.

"I've got her, sir," she says quietly, looking up at him, her large, bright blue eyes hitting him square.

"O-okay," he stammers, standing slowly.

"Guinevere," Arthur collapses next to Frida, gazing down at Gwen.

He sees her betrothal ring suspended from a leather thong around her neck and his breath catches in his throat. _She kept it._

"You are Artur?" Frida asks quietly.

"Yes," he says, never taking his eyes off of Gwen, reaching out hesitantly to stroke her cheek, to try and rouse her. He thinks better of it, and drops his hand.

"I am Frida. Gven and I share a room here," Frida says quietly. "She is not vell, sir. Her heart is sick." She looks boldly at Arthur. "Because of you."

"I… I know," he says, his voice contrite. "I will make it better. I will. I must," he whispers, and Frida is unsure if he is trying to convince her or himself.

Gwen stirs, blinking slowly awake, and she jumps slightly when she sees how close Arthur is.

"Guinevere…" he gasps, reaching his hand out to her again.

Much to his dismay, she shrinks away from him as though she is afraid of his touch, and Frida holds her and shushes her.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I… I can't… not yet," she says, her voice shaking.

"I understand," Arthur says sadly. He regards her a moment more, noting that her beautiful soft brown eyes now appear slightly haunted and she seems to have lost weight as well. "I do not deserve your affection," he whispers to her sadly. Only Gwen and Frida hear, and both women's hearts break a little at how distraught he sounds.

"I missed you so much, Guinevere," he says, just as softly.

"I missed you, too, Arthur," she answers, and he smiles a little. "But…" she trails off, not knowing what to say, or how much. _This is not the place or the time anyway._

"I got your message," he says. "Thank you."

Leon clears his throat reluctantly. "Sire?"

"Go," Gwen says, sitting up now. Frida stands and helps her to her feet, and Arthur stands and finally notices the swarm of young ladies behind Percival.

"Percival, what is all this?" he says suddenly.

"I couldn't just _leave_ them all there, my lord," Percival says.

"Of course not," he says, and the collection of girls breathes again. They don't know who this handsome man is, but they can tell that Gwen is very important to him and that he is clearly in charge.

Arthur looks out at the sea of lovely but scared faces. "You are all Helios' serving wenches?" he asks.

The girls all look at each other, and finally one steps forward, an incredibly beautiful, tall woman with skin like flawless mahogany, wide-set eyes and prominent cheekbones. "We are called his serving wenches, but in truth, we are his harem, my lord," she boldly states, her voice clear but bearing an unusual accent.

_So the rumors are true,_ Arthur realizes, and has to steel himself against the bile he feels rising in his throat. "We need to get you all to someplace safe," he says, almost to himself.

"Are you all well? Able to walk a bit of a distance?" he asks. They all nod. "Good."

Arthur looks at the Nubian beauty, the self-appointed spokesperson. She looks very intelligent and resourceful. "Head due north," he points, "to Caerleon. Queen Annis will protect you. Give you proper jobs, most likely."

"Queen Annis? Really?" Percival asks.

"We actually parted on quite good terms," Arthur explains. He reaches down to his cloak and tears the dragon emblem from it, leaving a slightly darker red patch on the fabric where the emblem was. He hands it to the girl.

"Give this to her and tell her King Arthur of Camelot begs her aid," he says. "Tell her everything. _Everything,_ do you understand?" He knows that Annis will be incensed at Helios' treatment of them.

"Yes," she nods, taking the emblem and tucking it inside her tunic.

"Go. Now. If you hurry you can reach the border by midday," he says.

"Thank you, Sire," the dark beauty says, reaching for his hand and kissing it. "Come," she calls to the other girls. Frida looks at Gwen.

"You are coming to Camelot with us," Gwen says firmly. Frida smiles brightly, and Gwen sees Percival bite back a smile as well before he turns to Arthur.

"Now what?"

"Still have to find Helios," Arthur says.

"His chambers are at the top of dat staircase, second door on the left," Frida points, speaking up.

Arthur turns. "No need," he says, as Helios has just appeared on the stairs, striding arrogantly down, sword at his hip.

"Go!" Arthur hisses at Percival, and he bundles Gwen and Frida away with him, heading the opposite direction as quickly as he can.

"King Arthur of Camelot, as I live and breathe," Helios drawls. He reaches the bottom of the steps and snaps his fingers.

Guards appear from everywhere and immediately attack. More of Camelot's knights also pour in, and the large foyer is suddenly a melee.

"Hold them off! Whatever means necessary!" Arthur calls. "Helios is mine!" He turns back to find Helios gone. Looking around, he sees his silhouette heading down a corridor, and he runs after.

_Merlin seems to have disappeared,_ he finds himself thinking. _Imagine that._

xXx

Merlin is, in fact, searching the castle, looking for any sign of magic, any sign that Morgana might be near. He also sets magical booby traps, things set to go off should any person not wearing a red cloak – apart from himself – happen by.

An invisible wall here, an unseen tripline there. Ropes that appear out of nowhere and wind around a person's body. Harmless-looking sticks that turn into deadly vipers. He does try to be creative about it.

He steps outside to make a circuit around the fortress, and he looks up at the sound of running feet and turns to see a sizable group of young ladies running, occasionally glancing behind them, heading north. _Arthur's sending them to Caerleon,_ Merlin notes. Muttering a few words, he casts a protection charm over the group, ensuring their safe passage.

"Oi!" A voice shouts. One of the guards has spotted Merlin, a large, ugly, dirty brute with a scraggly beard and bad teeth.

Baul, the guard who almost struck Gwen in the courtyard that day. Luckily for him, Merlin doesn't know this.

Baul charges at Merlin, and the wizard flicks his fingers in almost an irritated fashion as his eyes flash golden. Baul is thrown back against the wall. He shakes his head and gets to his feet, growling now.

_All right, so that just made him mad,_ Merlin thinks, but still he holds his ground.

"You're a bloody wizard!" Baul roars. "I'll bet your king would love to hear about—"

His words are cut off as Merlin sends a large rock flying at his head, smashing against it with a sickening _crack,_ and Baul drops like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

"Yeah, I'll bet he would, too," Merlin mutters darkly, stepping over the large man's lifeless body to continue his lap of the castle.

xXx

"Silas!" Helios commands, realizing Arthur is on his heels, and the henchman springs forward, delaying Arthur as Helios ducks into the great hall.

"Out… of… my… way… you… bastard…" Arthur growls, meeting Silas blow for blow as the guard tries to prevent Arthur from reaching his master.

Silas just grins and pulls a second sword from a felled comrade, swinging them both now.

"I'll take care of this idiot, Arthur, you go and get Ugly," a smoky voice says smoothly from the shadows.

Silas lunges at Arthur, who ducks easily before he bounds into the great hall, calling, "Thanks, Gwaine," behind him.

Helios was lying in wait for Arthur, just behind the doors, and he immediately attacks. Arthur is almost struck, but he leaps away just in time.

"So, King Arthur of Camelot has decided to stage an ambush," Helios talks as he swings and thrusts his sword. "I wonder what brought on this unwarranted attack?"

"Thought I'd beat you to it," Arthur says. "Strike before being struck."

"Morgana betrayed me!" he roars, thrusting again. Arthur ducks and thrusts back, just catching his arm.

"Hardly. Your serving wenches just aren't as true to you as you may think," Arthur answers, leaping away. The two men circle one another, measuring, waiting.

"Ha!" Helios laughs.

"You were plotting with Morgana to overthrow Camelot," he says, and Helios lunges again, slashing, missing, then jamming the butt of his sword into the side of Arthur's knee.

Arthur grunts in pain, but keeps his feet. "I was alerted to your treachery by one of yours who is really one of mine," he says through gritted teeth.

Suddenly the light goes on inside Helios' brain. _The sudden stomach illness that day. The furtive behavior. The noble bearing. And he was just standing with her in the foyer._

"Gwen," is all Helios says, and Arthur flies into a rage, attacking fiercely.

"She… is… special… to… you… I see," Helios says, meeting Arthur's attack, now forced to go on the defensive.

"You are _not_ allowed to speak of her!" Arthur growls, slashing Helios' leg now.

The warlord hisses in pain, jumping back. "Perhaps it would interest you to know, then, that I had the singular pleasure of _plucking_ your precious flower," Helios taunts, circling back on Arthur now.

_What?_ Arthur feels like his world has been shifted sideways. The stone under his feet feels like loose sand, and he staggers. He cannot breathe. His heart pounds and his head swims. His mouth opens and closes dumbly.

"Oh yes," Helios continues, his voice low and oily, thinking he's found the Achilles' heel. "She was my frightened little rabbit." He strikes, and Arthur _just_ parries in time, staggering back again.

"But she was _so good._" He strikes again, and Arthur dodges and stumbles.

"There truly is nothing so gratifying as breaking through a young woman's maidenhead." He punches Arthur in the ribs now, he is that close. "Knowing that you are the _only person who will ever get that pleasure._" He trips Arthur now and the king falls back against the dais at the front of the room.

Helios raises his sword. He leers at Arthur. "And she was _so sweet._ And _so tight._ And _so. Scared._"

Something snaps inside Arthur, and his mortification transforms into rage. With a huge roar, he finds his feet again, pushing off the dais. He punches Helios hard in the jaw and the warlord staggers backward, surprised.

Arthur slashes his sword again and again, relentless in his attack, fire in his eyes and in his belly. He slashes Helios in the side. He punches him again. And again. He thrusts his sword once more, and Helios falls to the floor, his sword skittering away. He does not get up.

xXx

"Bloody hell, this place is a maze!" Percival swears, finding another dead end. The map has erased itself from his brain in his efforts to find a safe haven for Gwen and Frida, and he is lost.

"_Dis_ vay," Frida says, exasperated, taking Percival's hand and the lead as well.

"Oh…" Percival says, his sword still at the ready in his other hand.

They near the hall where Arthur and Helios are fighting, stepping over bodies as they move, noting gratefully that it is overwhelmingly Helios' men that are littering the floor.

Gwen hears Arthur's enraged screams and she stops in the doorway just as Helios's body falls to the floor.

Arthur stands over Helios and raises his sword.

"Arthur, wait!" Guinevere's voice stays his hand, just before he delivers the final blow, ending Helios' life.

"Guinevere, what…" he starts, confused, blinking out of his rage.

"Is he alive?" she asks.

"What?"

"Is. He. _Alive?_" she repeats slowly.

"Yes, but…"

"You see… she even wishes… to spare…" Helios gasps, trying to move.

"Shut up," Gwen says, stomping purposefully forward. Arthur steps on Helios' shoulder and he cries out in pain.

Gwen reaches Arthur and Helios and takes Arthur's sword from his hand. In his surprise, he releases it much more easily than he should have.

And suddenly he understands.

"You… you…" she struggles to find her words in her fury, circling Helios like a predator, breathing heavily. Arthur wisely steps back, pulling his dagger from his belt. Just in case.

"You deplorable, evil, _disgusting_ excuse for a man!" she yells. "Death is too good for you…" she trails off, still incensed, still panting, teeth bared.

"How _dare_ you treat women this way!" she screams, kicking him hard in the stomach. Helios grunts and curls into a ball.

"You are no warlord," she says, her fierce eyes turning glassy with angry tears. "You are a _coward._ A spoiled little boy, a… common _cur_ who needs to beat down on those _weaker,_" she kicks his back, square in the kidney, "than yourself to make yourself look _bigger!_" She kicks his chin, knocking his head against the stone floor. Blood starts to ooze from his mouth, his nose. He moans.

She kicks his chest, as hard as she can. "_That_ is for all the women whose hearts you have hardened, who will never be able to find the true love and happiness they deserve because you've _ruined_ them!"

She hunches down and punches his face, in the eye. Her hand screams in protest, having never struck the hard bones of another before, but the surprised gurgle of a grunt from Helios makes it worthwhile. "_That_ is for Frida, for the black eye you gave her when she hesitated using her mouth on you!"

Leon, Gwaine, and Elyan have now joined Percival and Frida in the doorway now, drawn by the sound of Guinevere's yelling. The battle outside is over, those remaining of Helios' men either fleeing or surrendering. They watch, dumbstruck, as their future queen rails against and beats the felled warlord. Leon watches Arthur, standing a short distance from Gwen and Helios, dagger in hand, his face a mask of disbelief, hurt, and fury. Silent tears roll down both Frida's and Elyan's faces.

Gwen stands and pushes Helios onto his back with her foot, walking around him again, fuming. She lifts her foot. "And _this,_" she jumps up and stomps on Helios' groin with all her might, her boot smashing his soft parts, and Arthur thinks he hears a sickening _pop._

Helios screams in agony, turning onto his side again and curling into a ball. The men present all wince involuntarily.

"_This_ is for taking the only gift I had to give to my _only love,_" she is screaming now, tears running down her face, blind with her own fury. "For _ruining_ my already miserable life! For ruining _me!_" She kicks him in the stomach again, running out of energy.

"Guinevere," Arthur says softly.

She ignores him for the moment, and gives Helios' head one more kick, almost idly, then she shoves his shoulder, turning him on his back again.

Exhausted, she stands over Helios' prone body and raises Arthur's sword, point facing down. Arthur steps forward, intending to stop her, to tell her that she doesn't need to, he will deliver the death blow, but he no sooner takes a step when she plunges the blade straight down, burying it deep into the warlord's chest.

There is no sound in the large room save Gwen's soul-wrenching sobs. She withdraws the sword and tosses it aside, collapsing over Helios' now-dead body, and proceeds to continue pummeling it with her small fists, half-formed sentences coming from her as she punches again and again as the tears continue to fall.

"How dare you…"

"The humiliation…"

"So many lives…"

"You _took_ what was not…"

Arthur gently wraps his arms around her, lifting her from the body, pulling her away to enfold her in his embrace, grateful that she lets him.

"Guinevere," he whispers into her hair, smoothing it, kissing it, wishing he could snap his fingers and rewind the clock those many weeks. "Shh, Love, it's over. It's over."

"It's never over…" she sobs into his chest, clinging to him now, trembling, weak and spent, her knees giving way beneath her.

Arthur holds her tenderly but firmly, supporting her as she leans into him. He tries to get her to walk, but she is as limp as a rag doll. He lifts her in his arms and limps towards the door and his friends.

"Gven…" Frida whispers, still crying, reaching her hand out touch Gwen's arm. "Tank you, Gven," she says with a gentle squeeze, letting her hand drop again. Percival hesitantly puts his hand on Frida's shoulder and she turns into him, her forehead on his chest as she weeps, her fingers clutching his chainmail. He slowly wraps his arms around her, gently.

"Let's go home," Arthur says quietly, walking down the corridor, Gwen still in his arms.

Arthur limps towards the door and the knights and Frida follow silently. None of them know what to say, having just witnessed something none of them thought they would ever see in their lifetime.

He heads out the door and looks around. It is now full morning, and the servants that do not lodge in the castle are arriving, looking confused and troubled. They seem cheerful to receive the news from the live-in servants their master has been dispatched. Many flee in small groups, bringing with them all that they can carry.

"Where the hell is Merlin?" Arthur finally says aloud. They walk around the castle and find him standing, staring up into the forest beyond the walls.

"Merlin," Arthur calls. The servant turns and rushes over when he sees Gwen's limp form in Arthur's arms.

"Gwen!" he exclaims. "Is she…?"

"No, Merlin, simply exhausted beyond measure," Arthur says, looking softly down at her.

She opens her eyes for a moment, sees Merlin, and smiles. "Merlin…" she whispers, trying to lift her hand.

"Hi," he says, smiling, reaching for her hand instead, squeezing it gently. She closes her eyes again and lets her head fall back against Arthur's shoulder.

"What have you been doing out here all this time, Merlin?" Arthur asks. "Hiding?"

"I've been securing the perimeter, thank you very much," Merlin says, irritated.

"Oh really? By staring into the forest?"

"Keeping watch for any sign of Morgana."

"Ah. And did you do anything else noteworthy?"

"Killed him," Merlin says, nodding to Baul's prone form on the ground.

"Baul," Frida says, impressed. "He vas big bully. Gven saved Matthias from getting beaten by him and vas almost struck herself," she says quietly. "I hope he died badly," she adds darkly.

"Bashed his skull with a large rock. That do?" Merlin asks. "And if he gave Gwen trouble, I'm happy to have done it, now. I'm Merlin, by the way," he introduces himself to the strange blonde woman who seems to be clinging to Percival.

"Frida. Gven vanted me to come back to Camelot vit her," she says, looking to Arthur now.

"Of course," Arthur says, nodding, remembering Gwen's words earlier when the rest of the women left. The other knights have gathered around their king now, awaiting instruction.

"Well done, men," Arthur addresses them loudly, Gwen still cradled in his arms. She does not stir at his shouting. Gwaine and Leon both consider asking him if he would like them to take her, especially since he is limping, but they also both know what the answer would be.

"How many have we lost?" he looks to Leon.

"Um, eight, I think," Leon says. "Won't be able to give a full report till we return, I'm afraid."

"Eight. Compared to the almost-complete annihilation of Helios' forces, that is admirable. Collect our fallen men so that they may be honored when we return." Arthur turns and walks back towards their camp, where their horses are waiting.

"Arthur, what's wrong with your leg?" Merlin asks.

"Helios got my knee with the butt of his sword," he says casually. "Probably just bruised; I'll have Gaius take a look at it."

"So, Helios…?"

"Gone. Dead."

"You killed him, then," Merlin says.

"No. Guinevere did."

"What?"

"It was awful, actually. Not for Helios, he deserved everything he got and more. But watching her… like that… She was so broken, Merlin…" Arthur looks down at Gwen's unconscious form again, and the sadness and guilt in his eyes almost moves Merlin to tears.

"I don't think I want the details," Merlin croaks.

"No. You don't," Arthur says definitively as a single tear escapes down his cheek. He has no free hand with which to wipe it away, so he simply allows it to fall unchecked.

Several of the knights see it. Not one word is said about it.

They reach the camp and start to prepare their horses. Merlin spreads a blanket out and Arthur reluctantly sets Gwen down to continue resting while he packs.

"She will ride with me," he informs Merlin.

"Of course," Merlin says. He didn't need to be told.

"Can you ride, Frida?" Arthur asks her.

"No, Sire, not really. Never had a need, I'm afraid," she answers.

"She can ride with me," Percival volunteers shyly.

"Percival, your horse can barely carry you alone," Arthur says.

Gwaine saunters over and offers, "You are more than welcome to share my horse, my lady."

Frida turns and looks at this dark handsome knight. He blinks in surprise as he realizes that she is nearly as tall as he is. Before Frida can respond, Percival's huge hand closes around Gwaine's face and he pushes him back and away with an exasperated sigh.

"I don't even get a chance, then?" Gwaine complains. Then he turns and walks away, muttering something about "gigantic offspring."

Arthur notices the look on the large knight's face as he turns his attention back to Frida and sighs. "Give your pack to Elyan, then. He can carry your things with his. That way your horse will not be over-burdened."

"Why me?" Elyan asks.

"Because you're the smallest. Well, except for Merlin, who already has too much to carry," Percival grins.

"Great," Elyan says, glancing at his sister again.

"Would you like a moment?" Arthur asks quietly.

"Won't do any good, she won't be able to hear me," he says. "But yes."

Elyan walks to where his sister is reclined and sits on the ground. He gently cradles her head in his lap and talks quietly to her, stroking her hair. Arthur turns away, giving him his privacy, and the rest of the knights follow suit.

Once everyone is ready, Arthur goes back to Elyan. "We're all set. Your horse has been packed for you," he says quietly, ignoring the tears in the knight's eyes.

"Thank you," he says. "Let me help you."

The two men lift Gwen to her feet. "Guinevere, we need to get you on the horse. We're going home to Camelot, Love," Arthur whispers to her. Her eyes dazedly blink open slowly, and Arthur and Elyan bring her to Arthur's horse, flanking her, holding her upright.

"I'll climb up first," Arthur says, "Percival, can you lend a hand, please?"

Arthur climbs into the saddle, sitting as far back as he can and Percival and Elyan lift Gwen up to him. He settles her astride in front of him and she slumps back against him.

Elyan gently squeezes her knee a moment, and when she reaches down and puts her hand over his, he chokes back a quiet sob and turns away quickly to his own horse.

Percival returns to his own horse and Frida. "Sorry. I often get called upon for tasks like that," he apologizes.

"No, tank you for helping. I am sure Gven vould be grateful if she knew," Frida says.

"Is… is she going to be okay?" he suddenly asks her.

"I tink so, ya. She is strong. But it vill take time. And patience. Is your king a patient man?"

"Not usually, but with her, I'm willing to wager so."

"Good. She vill need it. She is a strong girl, but I tink her body and her mind have had all dey can take right now." Frida glances back at Arthur and Gwen. She has been watching Arthur intently all this while, watching how his eyes grow tender and worried when he gazes on Gwen. How he speaks to her in hushed, reverent tones, even now, when she is barely conscious. How he carried her here all the way from the castle despite his own injuries. How her name even sounds like a kiss when he says it. _He truly loves her. He feels terrible about what happened, and rightly so. He wishes he could go back and undo the banishment._

"Here," Percival says, starting to help her up to the horse. "Put your foot here… no, your other foot, sorry. Push off with this foot now, and… I'm sorry, I may have to give you a boost from behind…"

"Okay, ready."

"Grab here. Now push with this foot and pull with your arms and swing your leg over," he says, his hands at her hips, ready to give a gentle shove to her backside should she need it.

"Whoa, good job! You are a natural," Percival smiles. "I guess it helps being as tall as you are."

She smiles a little. "Should I scoot forvard?"

"Please," he says, then swings himself up behind her. The party had started moving already, and Percival spurs his horse into a gentle walk. "Hold on," he says, "lean against me if you have to." He carefully slips one arm about her narrow waist, holding the reins with the other.

xXx

The party arrives in Camelot, riding through the lower town. Arthur in the lead, his face unreadable as the townspeople hide their gasps and mutterings as their king rides through with the woman he banished unconscious in the saddle before him.

"Is she dead?" a small boy asks, his innocence his shield.

Arthur stops his horse. "No. She's not dead. She is sleeping deeply. She's had a very hard day," he tells the boy kindly.

"She can come back to Camelot?"

"Yes."

He spurs his horse forward, his mind continuing the torrent of troubled thoughts that have plagued him for the entire trip.

_Even the small children know her, and know she had been banished._

They reach the castle and Matthias is the first to greet them. As a stable boy, it was easy for him to beg permission as soon as they were spotted.

He looks at Arthur when he sees Gwen's unconscious body slumped against him, his eyes full of concern.

"She's not dead, Matthias," he says quietly. "But Helios is."

Matthias smile weakly, still worried about Gwen.

Leon and Gwaine step over to assist Arthur with Guinevere, as Percival is busy untangling Frida from the stirrup in which her foot seems to be stuck.

Arthur dismounts now, handing the reins to Matthias, and his injured knee gives way. He wobbles a moment, then motions for Leon to hand Gwen to him.

"No, Sire. Your knee won't bear the extra weight right now," Leon says.

"But…"  
"Don't start acting like a spoiled princess now," Gwaine taunts, and Arthur closes his mouth.

"She needs to see Gaius," Arthur says, limping deeply now.

"So do you, my lord," Leon recommends.

"It just stiffened up during the ride. Nothing to worry about."

"Even so."

They make their way to Gaius' chambers along with several other injured knights, and Merlin bustles around securing bunks for those that need – like Gwen – and bandages and other remedies that Gaius barks at him.

"Frida," Percival asks carefully, "are you well? Do you have any need to see our physician?"

"I am vell, my lord," she says quietly. "But I tink your physician might vant to talk to me. I can tell him much about vat Gven has been through."

"Yes, that's probably true," he says as they walk up the stairs to the castle. "I'll take you there."

"Tank you."

They walk in silence for a bit. "I have no place to stay," she says suddenly.

"There are many rooms here. Although…" he thinks. "Gwen's house in the lower town has remained vacant since she left. I'm sure she would not mind you staying there."

"Can you take me there later, after I see the physician?"

"Of course," he smiles. She shyly tucks her hand into his elbow then.

They walk into Gaius' rooms to find them already bursting with activitiy.

"Perhaps I should come back ven he is not so busy," she says, "But I vould like to see Gven a moment."

Percival nods and lingers outside. Frida crosses to the bunk where Gwen is lying, Arthur hovering close by, his injured leg extended before him.

"Thank you, Frida," Arthur says suddenly.

"Sire?"

"For looking after her. It means a lot to me."

"Ve are sisters of the heart now, my lord. I vas there for her ven no one else vas," she says, and he does not miss the implication in her tone, "as she vas for me."

"Frida," he says quietly. "You have every right to hate me. So does she. But I promise you I will make this right. I swear on my mother's memory."

"Tank you, Sire. And I do not hate you. I just vant Gven to be better. And happy. I vould love to see vat she is like happy, because even ven sad, she vas lovely."

"I want the same thing, Frida."

"I know dis."

"Have Merlin find you a bed somewhere in the castle. Any bed, even mine, I don't care."

"Dat is very kind of you, but Percival is going to take me to Gven's house. I vill stay there."

"Very well. Do let me know if you need anything at all."

"Tank you. I… I probably vill need vork to make some coin so I can live. I am strong and I am good vit cleaning and sewing."

"Anything you wish."

She thinks a moment. "Do you have a dairy? Vit goats?"

He puzzles a moment. "Yes. Cows, too."

"I am very good vit the goats, Sire. Also very good vit making cheese."

He nods. "Sounds good to me."

"I vill be back tomorrow. Your physician vill be vanting information from me, I tink."

"Yes," Arthur nods, looking over at Gwen again.

Frida leans over her friend, kissing her forehead once, then turns and walks back to where Percival is waiting for her.

"Arthur," Gaius says, coming over to check his knee.

"Guinevere first. I can wait."

Gaius knows that tone. He sighs and turns around to check Gwen. "Merlin, a splint and some bandages, please," he calls after a few minutes.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asks, scooting closer.

"Well, apart from a fractured hand, she seems perfectly fine. How would she have fractured her hand?"

"Punching Helios. Repeatedly," Arthur says.

"Ah," Gaius says, but he looks puzzled.

"You will learn everything tomorrow, Gaius," Arthur explains, telling him of Frida and her visit the next day.

"So…" Arthur says again, leading.

"She is fine, physically. She must have been through something highly traumatic, though. Her body seems to have… shut down."

"Shut down?"

"Sometimes when a person suffers too much stress, mental, physical, or emotional, it will retreat into itself, shutting itself down as a way to protect itself. Heal. Recover."

"So when will she wake?"

"When she wants to."

**A/N: Am I forgiven yet?**


	4. Camelot

Merlin sits at the table, idly picking at his porridge. He dips the spoon in, lifts it, tips the spoon, and watches as the gruel dribbles back down into the bowl in a series of wet splats. He glances repeatedly over at Guinevere's still form as he does this, worry crossing his face.

"Merlin, are you going to eat your breakfast or just…" Gaius' voice drifts away from the young wizard as his face goes slack, his staring eyes blank.

_Morgana approaches Helios' fortress in the morning mist on horseback, making her way towards the gates. She slows, noting the eerie quiet, the lack of sound or movement._

_ No, there is some movement. She slowly casts her eyes skyward, only to see large vultures circling the tower, and lower, crows swooping and diving in._

_ She slowly advances, wary now; alert. Something is very wrong. Entering the gates, she gasps as the sight and smell of over twenty dead bodies hits her._

_ They litter the courtyard. Crows pick at their eyes, their soft innards, while far off to one side, two feral dogs fight over leg of one unlucky man. A vulture dives and lands on the chest of another._

_ Covering her nose and mouth with a handkerchief, she dismounts and enters the castle._

_ Not a castle: a tomb. The smell is stronger inside. The bodies are still fresh, but they have been lying, unattended and ignored for just over a day, and the weather is quite warm. Morgana looks down at one body very close by and recoils as she sees a swarm of beetles, shiny and black, crawling across an open gash in the man's stomach._

_ "Helios?" she calls quietly, advancing warily, hand outstretched, defensive magic on the tip of her tongue, ready to spring at the slightest provocation._

_ She looks up the staircase. There is a body sprawled halfway down, his legs bent at angles to which no legs should ever be bent. She peeks down the corridor. Littered with Helios' fallen men._

_ This was a massacre._

_ "Helios?" she calls again, slightly louder this time._

_ A rat scurries across the corridor ahead of her. Morgana jumps and blasts the rodent, which screeches as it flies back, a fist-sized ball of fire._

_ The Lady curses softly, advancing towards the great hall, its doors still standing open._

_ She sees Helios' battered corpse, a crumpled, bruised and bloodied heap in the center of the floor. There is a dark sticky stain spread out all around him where his fluids have drained and pooled._

_ Another rat crawls across his chest. Morgana stays her hand this time. She moves closer to his body, wide eyes locked on his still form._

_ "Helios?" she whispers, as if she cannot believe he is dead. As if she thinks he will sit up and grin at her. As if she thinks this is some sort of nightmare._

_ Unfortunately for her, it is._

_ "Who did this?" she asks aloud. She sees the dried blood by his nose and mouth. The gash in his leg and in his arm. The deep puncture wound in his chest from the sword._

_ Gingerly, she touches his hand. Stiff. Like wood._

_ The rat squeaks at her and she jumps, staggering backwards to her feet, her face a tightly-drawn mask of horror. Suddenly petrified and off-balance, she flees the room, heading down the wrong corridor in her confusion._

_ Morgana passes a quarter-staff leaning against a wall and suddenly it falls to the ground with a wooden clatter. She shrieks and jumps, and then the staff changes and it moves, slithering and hissing, black and red and scaly. It raises is head and bares its fangs at Morgana._

_ "Emrys," she squeaks, realization hitting her like a wave. Her pale skin pales further and she turns and runs, leaping over bodies, finding her way to the door and her horse._

"Merlin? Merlin!" Gaius calls him back, and Merlin blinks suddenly, the vision disappearing, replaced by the concerned, familiar face of his guardian and mentor.

"Merlin, what happened to you?" Gaius whispers, looking furtively back at Gwen. She's still unconscious, but they aren't sure if she can hear them and if so, how much she'll remember when she wakes.

"I… think I just had a vision," Merlin whispers, leaning in close. A smile creeps across his face. "That means it worked," he says triumphantly.

"What worked? What have you done now?"

"I've been working on something in my free time," he says, pulling a smooth black stone from his pocket. "Seeing stones. I left a few around Helios' fortress, triggered to… alert me of the presence of a magical force."

"Morgana," Gaius says, impressed at the boy's ingenuity.

"I just saw her arrive there," he says, his thumb stroking the stone. He goes on to detail what he witnessed. Her horror at what she's discovered; her fear when she realized that "Emrys" had been there.

"She has no choice now but to retreat. At least for a while. She has no allies, because I'm sure she's found Agravaine's body now as well," he pauses, peeking sheepishly at Gaius.

The old man raises his eyebrow at him and simply purses his lips.

"Plus, I've put more fear of Emrys in her heart. She's petrified of him. Of me, except she doesn't know he's me, obviously, and good thing, too, 'cause…"  
"Merlin," Gaius interrupts his rambling.

"Sorry. So she's alone and scared. She'll be quiet for a while. Which will give Gwen and Arthur a chance to heal and reconcile," he says, looking over at his friend again. "They're going to need it."

"I am impressed, Merlin, I really am," Gaius says, beaming proudly at his apprentice.

Merlin grins, and actually takes a bite of his breakfast, now cold. He makes a face and pushes the bowl aside.

"I just have one question for you, though," Gaius asks.

"Hmm?"

"What 'free time?'"

Merlin shrugs. "Sleep is overrated anyway."

xXx

Arthur hobbles in, walking with a cane that Gaius had given him. The bone is bruised in his knee, and Gaius has ordered him to use the cane for at least the next few days.

"Is she awake?" he asks hopefully, but as soon as he looks over, he knows the answer.

"Patience, Sire," Gaius says. "I can only imagine what she must have been through," he adds.

"Gwen's friend Frida should be arriving soon. She should be able to shed some light for you," Merlin says.

"Frida? Is she that tall blonde girl that was with Percival?"

"Yes. She was with Gwen at Helios' fortress."

Arthur crosses to where Gwen is sleeping and sits beside her bed. Merlin and Gaius wisely go about their business, leaving him alone with her.

He leans over and kisses her forehead, stroking her hair back from her face. Her skin is warm and soft, pliant, as if she is merely sleeping.

She makes no sound, her breathing soft and regular. She hasn't moved since he left her last night.

"Guinevere," Arthur finally says quietly. "Please wake up."

There is a knock at the door and Arthur looks up as Merlin opens the door for Frida and Percival.

The knight sees Arthur and he politely clears his throat.

Arthur kisses Gwen's forehead again and stands. "Yes?" he asks tiredly, leaning on his cane.

"My lord, Sir Leon is awaiting your instruction on the training field," he says reluctantly.

"Yes, I know, thank you, Percival. Good morning, Frida, were you able to sleep at all?" he asks the young woman.

"Some. I tink. Too much newness, too much excitement yesterday," she sighs. "Maybe tonight."

Gaius comes over now, and Arthur introduces Frida.

"She was at Helios' castle longer than Gwen was. She has information that might be helpful for you in her treatment," Arthur says, his eyes drawn back to Gwen's still form.

"Thank you, Frida, I know this is probably very hard for you," Gaius says, patting her hand. Something about the elderly physician's calm and intelligent demeanor reassures her, instills trust, and she smiles.

"Percival," Arthur turns. "I think I'd like to stay and hear what Frida has to say. Tell Leon to run the standard drills, concentrating on hand-to-hand and mixed weaponry."

"Yes, Sire," Percival nods, his face showing the slightest hint of disappointment. "Oh, he's already taken the liberty of ordering preparations for the memorials of our fallen knights," he adds.

"Very good," Arthur says, and Percival turns to leave. "Percival," Arthur says quietly.

"Yes?"

"I know you wish to stay as well, to hear what Frida has to tell." The looks that have been passing between the large knight and the tall maid have not gone unnoticed by the king.

Percival blushes and looks down. Frida turns her head towards them, having heard her name.

"You may have some time off this afternoon to talk with her yourself," Arthur promises, glancing at Frida, whose cheeks also color now.

"Thank you, Sire," he says quietly. He gives Frida one last look, and she smiles shyly at him before he jogs away to the training field.

"Tank you, Sire," Frida echoes, looking down at her feet.

"Come and sit," Gaius says. "Have you eaten?" he asks her.

"No, sir."

"Merlin…?" Gaius turns his head to see Merlin already approaching with a fresh bowl containing hot porridge, an apple, and a hunk of cheese.

"One step ahead of you, Gaius," he says, setting the tray before Frida.

"Tank you, Merlin," she says, immediately inspecting the cheese. She smells it, and breaks off a piece to try. "I can do better," she declares with a shrug.

The three men laugh, surprised at her bold statement.

"Oh!" she exclaims, embarrassed. "Forgive me…"

"No, no, nothing to forgive, I assure you," Arthur says kindly. _It feels good to laugh,_ he realizes. "But now I am really looking forward to your work."

"Where are you from, dear? I don't believe I've heard your accent before," Gaius says, deciding to first make small talk so she can eat.

"The north. My homeland is called Nor Veg."

"Vikings," Gaius says, eyebrows lifting. "That explains your… above-average height," he smiles.

"Ya. My people are very tall. I told Gven, the men of my village are big like the bear. Like your knight there," she points to the door Percival had just exited, her slight blush giving her away again.

"Hmm," Gaius says, a knowing smile creeping across his face. "Will you tell us how you landed here?"

She thinks a moment. "Perhaps another time. It is a sad story and one dat I do not like to relive often, for it breaks my heart every time I have to tell it."

"Understood."

"All of Helios' serving venches – his harem – are vomen who have run avay from someting. Dat I vill say."

"Interesting," Gaius says. "Do you mind if I take notes while you talk, dear?"

"No, sir."

"You do not have to call me 'sir,' I am a commoner," Gaius says gently.

"But you are a learned physician, sir, and you must be shown respect."

"I like this girl," Gaius says, smiling at Arthur and Merlin.

"You are right, Frida," Arthur speaks up. "And we do have nothing but the utmost respect for Gaius." He looks to his old friend, remembering that painful conversation when Gaius returned, nearly dead, after being framed as a traitor.

"Thank you, Sire," Gaius nods, picking up his quill.

Frida eats half her porridge, a few more bites of cheese and the entire apple. "Helios collected vomen. Vomen running from their pasts," she says simply. "Dat is how he vould snare dem. Promise an easy life, a roof over their heads."

Gaius nods, frowning. "He lays out the bait, preying on insecurity," he nods, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. "Tell me, Frida, I am curious. I know little of Helios. Did he travel here from another land, someplace where a lord having a harem of women was commonplace?"

"No. I know dis because he spoke once about a brother and growing up nearby. He vas drunk, vich is the only reason he vas talking dat much. I tink he heard of the concept and felt it vas his due. Dat he deserved to have any voman he vanted venever he vanted, and liked the idea of having several to choose from at any time. He had a very high opinion of himself."

"Such a man would almost have to," Gaius comments. "Please go on, dear."

"Vell, once ve vere at ease, he vould call for us at night. Silas vould collect vatever girl Helios reqvested for the night and escort her up."

"Were any of the girls… willing? Did any welcome his advances?"

"A few. Most of us… vat is the vord? Tolerated him. Ve had no choice, ya? So ve find vays to cope. Tink of someting else, pretend to be somevere else. Remove the mind from the body. Fantasize about killing him. Or at least cutting off his…" she trails off.

"Yes," Gaius says, clearing his throat.

"Gven had not been there long enough to develop dat ability. Also too innocent," Frida looks over at Gwen, a sad smile on her face.

"So it's true, then," Arthur says, his voice barely audible. "Helios wasn't just taunting me."

"I am sorry, Sire, but ya, he did… break her."

Arthur looks as though he is going to be ill.

"I am sorry she is no longer a maiden for you, Sire," Frida apologizes again, misunderstanding his grief.

"What? I don't care about that…" he says absently. "It… it just makes me _sick_ that she had to go through that. That she was forced, maiden or not…" he stops, unable to continue, his face white as a sheet.

Frida contemplates him again. _He is a surprise._

Gaius looks steadily at Frida. "Frida, do I… do I need to call the midwife in to examine her? Either of you?"

"She will not be vit child, sir, but the midvife vould still be a good idea, I tink. Just to make sure dat he did not…" she glances uneasily at Arthur, "damage her."

"She will be damaged enough emotionally by him, I'm afraid," Gaius says darkly. "Merlin," he turns and looks at the servant.

"Yes, I'll go find her, she doesn't live far from here," he says, heading out the door to retrieve the midwife.

Arthur is sitting with his elbows on his knees, holding his head, staring at the floor.

"How do you know she isn't with child?" he asks, not looking up.

"Helios vas careful. He did not vant children. Said dey vere a burden and a nuisance. So he never… how did she say it? He never spilled his seed inside."

Arthur looks up, the already-unhappy expression on his ashen face now also displaying disgust. "And you are certain he…?"

"Ya. Ven she came back to our room, she… um," Frida looks at her hands, not able to say such things and look at the king's face. "She scrubbed her belly until the skin vas pink and raw."

"Oh," Arthur says sullenly. _I'm sorry I asked._

"Hmm. Frida, how often…?" Gaius asks, hoping she knows what he is asking.

"He only summoned her one time, sir," she answers. "Though he probably vould have done again soon had you not come and saved us, Sire. He seemed to be qvite fond of her."

"If I could go back there and kill him some more, I would," Arthur mutters, his head in his hands again. Frida notices spots of wetness on the floor between his feet where his tears have fallen.

"Is there anything else?" Gaius asks.

"He vould beat us if ve did not cooperate vit him in his chambers. If ve even so much as hesitated in following his requests… no, demands, he vould hit."

Arthur remembers Gwen punching Helios in the eye, shouting that it was for Frida.

"You received such punishment?" Gaius asks.

"Ya. Only one time. I vas yet new. I did varn Gven that she should cooperate ven she vas summoned. It vas going to be painful enough for her."

"So she knew it was coming?"

"I vas summoned two nights before she vas. Ve hadn't talked about it before den, but she had figured it out. She is very smart. Ven I came back dat night, I advised her. She is strong-villed. I didn't vant that to cause a problem for her."

"That was kind of you, Frida," Gaius says. "From what I understand, Helios was a large man, and I'm sure he could have very easily overpowered her had she put up a fight. Possibly even killed her."

Arthur stands suddenly, his cane clattering to the floor. His face is pale and shiny, like un-tinted candle wax. He hobbles to a corner, behind the privacy screen, and after a moment they hear the sound of his retching into the pot, emptying the contents of his stomach.

A tear slips from Frida's eye now, and she hurriedly wipes it away. _He knows it is his fault. He deserves this anguish, yet I cannot help but pity him._

Merlin returns, rushing in, followed by a sturdy woman with steel gray hair.

"Ah, Idla, good of you to come on such short notice," Gaius stands, hugging the midwife.

"Merlin told me it was urgent. Is it true? Is she back?" she looks over to see Gwen lying on her bunk, Arthur now face-down on the one directly beside.

"What's wrong with him, then?" she asks.

"Shock, I think. Long story. Sit down, please. Idla, this is Frida."

"Nice to meet you," Frida says, nodding at her. She then goes on to summarize some of the things she's just told Gaius, explaining why she has been summoned.

Idla is incensed, ready to go off and kill Helios again herself.

"If there's one thing I just cannot abide…" she starts, then calms herself. "Thank you for calling me. Of course I will examine her. And you as well, Frida."

"Tank you, ma'am."

"But first, you men need to clear out," Idla says, glancing uneasily at the king's prone form.

"I'll get him," Merlin says, picking up Arthur's cane and walking over to his master.

"Come on, then," he says, hoisting Arthur to his feet.

"You're stronger than you look," Arthur says, taking his cane.

They pause near Frida. "Thank you again, for everything. I know it wasn't easy for you this morning."

"You are velcome, Sire," she bows her head.

"Please, Arthur. You have definitely earned the right," he smiles weakly at her, noticing that she is wearing the same dress as the previous day.

"Tank you… Artur."

"You have no belongings," he says simply, starting to recover some, standing straighter, thinking clearer.

"No time," she shrugs.

Arthur pulls a leather purse from his belt and hands it to Merlin. "Merlin, take Frida to the market this morning. Make sure she has necessities. And, if you can find a dress or two long enough, those as well."

"I can sew if I have supplies," she offers shyly.

"Whatever you need. I'll be sending a party back to Helios' fortress in a day or two; I will make sure that Percival leads the group so he can go to your room and bring back the things from your room for you and Guinevere."

"Tank you, Sire. Artur."

"I'll wait outside for you, Frida," Merlin says.

"Arthur, are you going out to the training fields?" Merlin asks.

"No," Arthur says. "I'm going back to my chambers. I do not wish to be disturbed. Unless Guinevere wakes," he looks at Gaius, "in which case someone had better come running like their backside was on fire."

"Understood."

"Good. Now get out," Idla calls.

xXx

"So, what do you think?" Gwaine asks Leon. The two knights are patrolling the forest after lunch, riding on the well-worn path around the kingdom.

Gwaine enjoys being paired with Leon on patrols. The senior knight is always so proper, so formal, and Gwaine finds he likes trying to draw the human being out of him.

"About?" Leon asks.

"Arthur and Gwen. Do you think she'll recover, that she'll take him back?"

"It is not my place to say," Leon answers carefully.

"I know, that's why I'm asking you what you _think._ It's called having an opinion."

"My opinion is of little consequence." He still avoids answering.

"Leon, you are impossible. What do you think I'm going to do, tattle?"

Leon still says nothing, but Gwaine can tell he's at least pondering an answer now.

"I do know one thing," Gwaine volunteers, "I'll never get the image of Gwen pummeling Helios' dead body out of my mind." He frowns.

"That entire scene gave me nightmares last night," Leon admits quietly.

"Ah, so the immortal Sir Leon is human after all!" Gwaine declares, but in truth, he feels for his comrade.

"Immortal?"

"You didn't know that that's what the lads call you?"

"No. That's just… odd. And inaccurate."

"Well, you did kind of come back from the dead, I hear. Drank from the cup of life, they say."

"Yes, well, I did, but that's only because the Druids found me in the nick of time. I was nearly dead. _They_ gave me drink from the cup. And that doesn't make me immortal, it just makes me lucky."

"But doesn't the cup of life…?"

"Only if you put your blood in it and someone casts a spell over it, like Morgause did," Leon explains with a sigh. "And even then, if the cup is spilled, you're nothing more than a piece of meat."

"Oh. But still, you always manage to come out of every battle with little more than scratches."

"Skill, my friend. Skill."

"Right," Gwaine rolls his eyes now. "Now if you're done avoiding my original question…"

"Very well," Leon sighs. "I don't know what I think, honestly. I know what I hope, but that is something different entirely.

"What do you hope, then?"

"I hope that they find their way back to each other. He is a good king, and she will be a good queen."

Gwaine nods in agreement. Both men seem certain that Gwen will one day be their queen.

"But together," Leon continues, "they will be great. Nigh unstoppable."

"Balance," Gwaine says, almost to himself.

"Exactly," Leon says, understanding the comment. "She is the light to his darkness, he the strength to her weakness."

"I don't know about that; she didn't look very weak yesterday…" Gwaine comments, raising his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean," Leon gives him a _look._ "I know she is not weak. But I sometimes wonder if she knows that. She has been a servant her whole life, and she is also a woman, which automatically gives her a lower status even if she were a true noble."

"Which is bollocks," Gwaine cuts in.

"Agreed. It's an interesting dance, watching the two of them. She is always meek and proper, yet when Arthur needs her, she is right there, bolstering him, encouraging him to go on. Even yelling at him, if that's what he needs. It's like _his_ weakness brings out _her_ strength."

"Wow, Leon, that's… almost profound."

"Well, you saw them two years ago, in that dank ruin of a castle. He was certain he was riding to his death. To face Morgana and Morgause and their _immortal_ army in an attempt to bring them down and reclaim the kingdom."

"Yeah."

"We would not have succeeded were it not for her encouraging him."

"Well, if a beautiful woman kissed me like _that_ on the night before a suicide mission, I'd sure as hell make sure I came home to her," Gwaine chuckles now.

"Good point."

Gwaine turns and looks at the other knight, surprised.

"What?" Leon asks. "I am not immune to the charms of a beautiful woman."

"So it does not trouble you, then?" Gwaine asks, voicing something he's been wondering for a while now.

"What does not trouble me?"

"That your king has chosen a commoner rather than a Lady or a princess."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, 'cause you're a _proper_ noble, aren't you? Not one of us rabble that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Leon laughs. "Thus making you an _improper_ noble?"

"As improper as I can be," Gwaine winks.

"No, it really doesn't trouble me, getting back to your question. I cannot even say I was all that surprised when I saw that kiss," he furrows his brows slightly.

"Really?"

"I may be a 'proper' noble, but I have eyes and a brain. I could see the way he looked at her, the way she would always be there for him. She _made a key_ and broke me out of the dungeons so I could help him, for crying out loud."

"Definitely not weak," Gwaine mutters with a chuckle.

"Arthur is lucky to have a woman such as Gwen. We should all be so lucky to find someone like that."

"Surprised Uther never suspected," Gwaine comments, "if it was as obvious as you say. And, come to think of it, it was; I spotted it the first time I was here."

"Uther did suspect, once. Blamed an enchantment."

Gwaine makes an exasperated noise and rolls his eyes.

"Uther was a good king. Strong. Unfortunately, he only ever saw what he wanted to see."

"He was an ignorant bully," Gwaine adds. Leon looks reproachfully at him, so he adds, "Opinion, remember?" and smiles.

They ride a bit further, now on the trail heading back towards the castle.

Gwaine smiles and looks around a bit. "Whoa," he stops his horse, jumping down.

"What is it? Do you see something?" Leon asks, alert now.

"Yes," Gwaine calls back, bounding a short distance into the thicket.

"Well?"

"Flowers," Gwaine shouts back over his shoulder.

"Did you say 'flowers?'"

"For Gwen," he answers, bending and picking.

"Save some for me," Leon calls, dismounting.

xXx

The two knights emerge from the forest just as Percival is heading into it, on foot.

"Hey, Percival, we've got some flowers for Gwen," Gwaine calls. "If you want, we'll give you a share."

Percival says nothing, and they notice the uncharacteristic clouded expression on his face.

"Percival?" Leon calls. "Hey, Perce, you all right?"

"Hmm?" he looks up at them. "Going for a walk," he mutters.

They watch him stride into the forest, puzzling after him.

"Wonder what's wrong with him?" Gwaine asks as they advance again.

"Arthur gave him the afternoon off to talk with Frida," Leon says, a little concerned now. He and Percival are close, and he is worried for his friend.

"Well, it looked like he didn't like what she had to say," Gwaine says.

"No, he wasn't angry," Leon says. "I'm sure she probably had a lot to tell him. He is quite taken with her, and she can't have had happy tales for him. He just needs time to absorb the information."

"I wonder if she told him everything," Gwaine comments, having a pretty good idea of what Helios was doing with all those lovely girls at his fortress.

Leon looks back over his shoulder at where Percival disappeared into the forest. "I hope so," he says.

They enter the courtyard at the same time as a young messenger bearing the colors of Caerleon.

Leon dismounts and addresses the boy. "Can I help you?"

"I have a message for King Arthur from Queen Annis of Caerleon," the boy says, holding up a flat parcel.

"Come with me," Leon says, striding up the stairs to the castle. He starts towards Arthur's quarters, then pauses and changes direction, heading for Gaius' quarters.

He knocks, and Gaius opens the door.

"Sir Leon, how can I help you?" Gaius asks, stepping back to allow the knight to enter.

"Is the king in here, by chance? There is a messenger here from Caerleon."

"He just left, actually. He's been in and out of here all day," Gaius sighs. "I know he's anxious, but it's getting to be quite tiresome."

"So she is still sleeping, then?" Leon asks. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot," he says, remembering the daisies still bunched in his hand.

"One moment," he says to the messenger, turning and walking towards Gwen's bed, where he takes a mug, pours some water in, and sets the daisies in the water. He places the mug on the table nearby, gives her a concerned look, and turns back to the messenger.

"Okay; this way," he leads the way out, passing Gwaine and his flowers on the way.

"I do not wish to be disturbed," Arthur's voice calls after Leon knocks.

"Sire, there is a messenger here from Caerleon," Leon answers.

The door opens after a moment, and the knight and the messenger enter.

"My lord," the messenger says, bowing and handing Arthur the parcel.

"I probably know what this is," Arthur says, opening it. It is the emblem from his cloak, returned, with a note.

_Dear King Arthur,_

_ Thank you for sending these young women to me. I have been watching Helios from a distance for some time now, and had heard the rumors. I was horrified to learn that they were true. I only hope that you have dealt with him in a manner that he deserves._

_ Makeda has told me everything, as she said you had instructed. I have given the girls jobs in my kingdom, jobs that will keep them on their feet and off their backs. They have a long road ahead, but they appreciate your aid and wish to thank you for it._

_ I thank you again for trusting in me enough to send these girls into my care, and I do wish the best for you and your young lady. Show her the care and consideration that I know you possess, and the road will not seem so long._

_ Please do keep the lines of communication open between our kingdoms. I treasure the peace between us and am always listening for news from Camelot._

_Your friend,  
Queen Annis of Caerleon._

"She really did tell her everything," Arthur comments. He was surprised that Annis knew of his "young lady."

"What is your name?" Arthur asks the boy.

"Kirby."

"Kirby, thank you for the message. It is late and if you wish to stay the night, we will find you a bed."

"Thank you, Sire."

"I will have a reply for you in the morning. Merlin, will you find Kirby a bite to eat and a bunk in the servants' quarters?"

"Yes, Sire," Merlin nods and starts to head out.

"Kirby," Arthur calls, stopping them.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Queen Annis mentions someone called Makeda in her note. Do you know who that is?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Tall, striking woman with dark brown skin?"

"Yes, that's the one, my lord. She is Queen Annis' new maidservant, in fact. Took to her immediately. Her previous maid had married recently and just had a child."

Arthur smiles, remembering the brave, intelligent woman, and knowing she will be a good companion to Annis. "Very good." He ponders his returned emblem for a minute, then tosses it aside. "Oh, sorry, you may go."

"Thank you, Sire," Kirby says.

"I'll pop in and check on Gwen while I'm out," Merlin says before he leaves.

"Thank you, Merlin." He reaches for a clean parchment.

_Dear Queen Annis,_ Arthur writes.

_I am very pleased to hear that the women are safe in your care. Thank you for letting me impose on your hospitality this way. I needed to get them to safety, and you were the first person I thought of that was close enough for them to easily reach._

_ Your messenger tells me that you have even made Makeda your maidservant. I was much impressed by her, she seemed a resourceful and intelligent woman and I am sure she will serve you well._

_ My young lady is called Guinevere, and she is not well. Our physician assures me that she will recover, but it will be a long road for us both. I do most humbly thank you for your concern for her, it means much to me._

_ I will keep you informed as much as I can about the goings-on in Camelot. I am similarly interested in Caerleon's affairs and ask that you afford me the same courtesy._

_Your servant,_

_King Arthur of Camelot_

xXx

Arthur cannot sleep. He tosses, he turns, he gets up and paces. He looks out the window. Finally, he can stand it no more and leaves his chambers, heading through the corridors to Gaius' rooms.

He quietly pushes the door open, peeking in. He can hear Gaius' soft snores, but there is no other sound. There is no light coming from the crack under Merlin's door.

Arthur closes the door behind him and pads on silent bare feet to Gwen's bedside, pulling a stool over to sit close beside her.

He gazes down at her still form on the bunk, on her back, a blanket up to her chest, arms at her sides. Her splinted hand is nearest to him, which he laments because he wishes to hold her hand.

He settles for stroking her wrist lightly with his fingers instead, the softness of her skin always a surprise to him.

"Guinevere," he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "I'm so sorry. For everything. I should have… I wish…"

_I don't even know any more._

"I should not have banished you. You are too much a part of me. I didn't realize what I had until it was gone. Until you were gone."

He reaches up and very carefully lifts the ring into his hand. "You kept this. Why did you keep it? As a reminder of our love or as a reminder to more carefully guard your heart?"

_I hope it's not the second reason._

"I could barely function without you around," he says, words flowing more freely now. "Ask Merlin how many times he woke me up from the table in my room instead of my bed. My bed that I couldn't sleep in because all I could think of was that it should have been _our_ bed. Ask him what a beast I was to everyone. Ask the knights how hard I pushed them, how hard I trained them, forgetting my anguish was mine to bear. Ask him how many times he confronted me about your banishment, reminding me that I was an idiot."

He sets the ring back down and touches her arm again.

"I love you so much, Guinevere," he whispers. "Please. You have to come back to me. You… _we_ cannot heal your hurts if you do not wake. Gaius says you have to want to wake." He pauses, tears now falling freely from his eyes.

"Please want it. Want to open your beautiful brown eyes for me. Wake up for me, please, Guinevere."

He softly closes his fingers around her arm, just holding it, feeling the slender limb, stroking the skin with his thumb.

"Wake up for yourself," he amends.

xXx

_This isn't my bed. It's firmer. Better. The blankets feel softer._

_ I can't move my hand. Why can't I move my hand? And why does it feel like there is a large stone resting on my stomach?_

Gwen moves her left hand, lifting it slowly, shakily, towards the weight on her stomach. Her fingers touch something silky and warm.

Arthur's eyes snap open at her touch and he lifts his head from where it had been resting on her stomach.

"Guinevere?" he whispers.

Slowly she blinks her eyes open to find herself looking into his familiar blue-grey eyes.

Dawn is just breaking over Camelot, and the first shafts of sunlight stream into Gaius' room.

"You look awful. When was the last time you properly slept?"


	5. Healing

Arthur actually laughs, relieved. Her hoarse voice like music to his ears. _And it would be like her to immediately be concerned about someone other than herself. About me._

He leans forward to kiss her, touching her face, and she recoils. He stops.

"No," she snaps, and Arthur notices she is trembling slightly.

"Guinevere?" he asks, blinking in confusion.

"Please… don't," she says, shrinking from him. _Why am I repulsed at his touch? This is Arthur, not_ him. _Oh, God, why, why does his touch make my blood run cold, make me want to…_

Gwen curls on her side, facing away from him, holding her stomach as hot and cold chills race through her and she salivates as if she is about to be sick.

"Guinevere!" Gaius is awake and on his feet now, hurrying over to find Gwen in a ball and Arthur looking like he's just seen a ghost.

"Gaius, she, she woke, and she spoke to me, and then I touched her and she…"

"She did not want you to touch her," Gaius says gently.

"Gwen?" he says, leaning over, gently laying his hand on her shoulder. "Gwen, it's all right. No one is going to hurt you. You're back in Camelot, among those that love you."

"I know," she says, weeping softly into her pillow. "I know. I just…" _I just didn't expect to feel revulsion at Arthur's touch. I remember loving his hands, his lips, his eyes, how they feel, how they made me feel like I was the most precious jewel in the kingdom._

_ Now I feel like nothing more than a common piece of trash. Ruined, doomed to shrink from the touch of any man._

"Guinevere," Arthur says, "I… I'm sorry."

Gaius retreats, letting them talk for a bit.

"I am, too," she says, still facing away from him.

"Can you look at me? I promise I will… not touch you again," Arthur says, his voice pained.

She slowly turns, wiping her face with her left hand as Merlin comes bounding out.

"Gwen! You're awake!"

"Hello, Merlin," she says with a weak smile as he approaches, ready to envelop her in a tight hug.

Arthur shoots his arm out, stopping him. "Careful, Merlin."

"What?"

"Sorry, Merlin, he's right." She shudders slightly, sitting up and hugging her knees. "I cannot stomach being touched," she says sadly.

"Oh. Even though we are just friends?"

"I don't know, but I'm not willing to risk it right now," she says, looking down at her knees.

"Well, I'm very happy you're awake. Frida will be happy, too. We bought you a couple dresses yesterday, since you haven't got any others right now."

"Thank you," she says.

"Merlin," Arthur says, looking at his servant.

"Right. Would you like something to drink, Gwen?"

"Yes, please."

Merlin leaves and Gwen looks over at Arthur. "What happened to my hand?"

"You don't remember?"

She shakes her head no. Merlin brings a cup and sets it on the table next to her bunk instead of handing it directly to her.

"Thank you," she says, reaching for it. She sees the daisies resting there as well, and pauses a minute to stroke a petal.

"Those are from Gwaine and Leon," Arthur says. "They wanted you to have something beautiful to look at when you woke."

She smiles and lifts the cup, drinking from it.

"Slowly," Gaius calls to her, and she lowers the cup.

"So?" she lifts her injured hand again.

"You got that punching Helios in the face, I think. Either that or when you pounded his dead body with your fists after you ran him through with my sword."

"I did _what?_"

"You really don't remember?"

"I remember hearing your voice, seeing you, and fainting. I remember you sending the rest of the serving wenches to Caerleon. I remember running around the castle with Percival and Frida…" she trails off, brows furrowing, thinking.

"I remember seeing you standing over Helios' body," she continues slowly, eyes still closed, concentrating.

"Gwen, don't struggle too much to remember. You've been unconscious for more than a day. You have to take things slowly," Gaius cautions.

"No, I want to remember. If I killed that… that _bastard,_ I need to remember."

Arthur wants to help her, wants to climb onto the bunk behind her and wrap her in his embrace.

_It would do more harm than good right now._

"I… I kicked him… punched him… stomped on his… oh, God, I did that?" her hand flies to her mouth.

"He deserved everything you did to him and more, Guinevere," Arthur says quietly.

"Then the sword… and after that…" she trails off, staring into the distance. Finally she looks at Arthur. "I don't remember anything until just now."  
"Would you like to hear?" Arthur asks.

"Yes."

"You tossed my sword aside and starting punching his dead body with your fists, sitting on him. I had to pull you away. You basically collapsed then, or would have had I not been holding you," he says, for wanting to emphasize that he held her, kept her safe in his arms.

"You drifted in and out, and I carried you then, away from the fortress, back to our camp. Do you remember Elyan talking to you?"

"A little. I… I think I remember his voice, but the words aren't there," she says, her face clouding some. "Though he is not exactly one of my favorite people at the moment, either."

_Either,_ notes Arthur. _I guess the other one would be me._

"He feels terrible. Disgusted with himself for not standing by you."

"Good. He should."

Arthur clears his throat and decides to continue on his original course. "You rode with me back here to Camelot day before yesterday."

"With you?"

"I held you in front of me on my horse."

"Oh."

"People thought you were dead when they saw you."

"Oh."

"And you haven't moved since Leon placed you here."

"Leon?"

"I hurt my knee. Well, Helios hurt my knee, and by the time we got back here I could barely support my own weight. Leon basically forbade me to carry you any further."

"Where is the cane I gave you, Sire?" Gaius asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"In my room. I forgot it when I came down here."

"Cane? Are you all right?" Gwen asks, concerned. _I do still care about him, apparently._

"Just badly bruised. I'll be fine," he smiles, her concern for him soothing his heart a tiny bit.

"Arthur, why did you bring me back?" she asks suddenly.

"Because… because I realized that I acted rashly and foolishly when I banished you. And I realized that I cannot live without you."

She says nothing, looking down at her knees again, still curled on the bed.

"Why did you send word warning me of Helios and Morgana's plan?"

"Because I couldn't live with myself if I had information such as that and I didn't try to help you."

_Me. Not Camelot, not the kingdom, me,_ he notes.

"And I couldn't stand the thought of Morgana trying to take over Camelot. Again. If they had succeeded and you had died, then…" she stops, leaving the words unspoken.

"Guinevere, I am so sorry. For everything."

"So am I."

Gaius comes over and gives her a draught. "Drink this, Gwen. It will help your recovery. You haven't had any food in almost two days and you'd already lost weight before you returned. We don't want you wasting away."

Gwen drinks obediently and hands the vial back to Gaius. "Is there anything you would like? Anything you need?" the physician asks.

"An apple. And a piece of bread. A big one. Maybe a sausage or two."

"Good, good," Gaius says, bustling for at least the apple and bread for now.

"And I think I should like to bathe."

"Merlin," Arthur calls, "Would you fetch Elga and have her draw up a bath for Guinevere in one of the guest rooms?"

"Of course," Merlin answers and starts out.

"Don't fuss, a basin and a cloth will be sufficient," Gwen protests, and Merlin pauses.

Arthur waves him away. "Please. Let me do this for you. I insist."

_I've never had a real bath in a real bathtub before._ "Very well," she says, then takes a bite of her apple.

It tastes like heaven.

xXx

Gwen has to admit, a bathtub is a wonderful thing. Elga has even put lavender oil in the water and helped her wash her hair before plaiting it to keep out of the way until it can be dried. She soaks and soaks until the water is too cool to be comfortable, then reluctantly leaves the tub, allowing the matronly maid to wrap her in a towel. She feels like a little girl being tended by her grandmother.

"So glad you are back, Gwen," Elga chats, talking of things that have no matter at all. Gwen does notice the disapproving clucks the woman makes at her prominent ribs and hipbones.

_I guess I have lost a lot of weight,_ she thinks, sighing as she slips a clean shift over her head.

There is a knock at the door. Gwen scurries behind the privacy screen while Elga answers the door.

"Yes?" she asks the strange tall blonde woman standing in the doorway, a dress draped over her arm.

"I have a new dress for Gven," she says, peeking over the elder maid's head, looking for her friend.

"Frida!" Gwen exclaims, coming out from behind the screen now. She longs to run to her friend, but her legs are still weak, her mind still exhausted, so she allows Frida to do the running.

"Oh, Gven, I am so happy ven Merlin tells me you are avoken!" Frida says, and Gwen laughs at how her friend's English gets worse when she's excited. "I bring you a new dress," she holds it up. It is a lovely slate blue gown, simple, with a scoop neck and long sleeves. Elegant but simple, like most of the clothes Gwen favors.

"Thank you, how…"

"Artur sent me wit Merlin to the market to get necessities," she explained.

"So he bought this…" Gwen says, frowning slightly.

"Ya."

"He shouldn't have done that."

"I did not tink I should argue," Frida says. Gwen nods, understanding.

"Elga, this is Frida. She came back with me."

"Hello, dear. Are you going to be a maid in the castle here, then?" she asks, taking the dress and helping Gwen into it.

"Ya, I tink so. King Artur said I could do vat I pleased for vork, he is so grateful dat I take care of you," Frida tells Gwen.

"Oh? And what have you chosen?"

"I vill go to the dairy," she smiles.

"Of course," Gwen nods, knowing Frida's affection for goats, wondering how much it is tied to her lost goatherder.

"I am… I am staying at your house, Gven," Frida says.

"Oh, good. We'll have to get another bed in, then."

"You are not staying here?" Elga asks just before Frida does.

"I wish to return to my own home," Gwen says. "I… I think I need to return to some semblance of a normal life if I am to get better."

Elga guides the now-dressed Gwen to a chair so she can see to her hair.

"Elga, you don't need…" Gwen starts.

"Yes, I do, love. I am under the king's orders, I'm afraid. And besides, how are you going to tend your hair with that splint on your hand?"

Gwen sighs. _I don't have the energy to put up a fight anyway._

"How vas seeing him?" Frida asks quietly, stepping closer and kneeling down next to Gwen.

"Frida, it… it was awful, actually," she says frowning. "Arthur was overjoyed that I was awake. He tried to kiss me, which I thought would be fine, but as soon as his fingers touched my face, I flinched. I actually _flinched away._"

Frida touches Gwen's knee. "I am sorry, Gven. It vill get better."

"How do you know?"

She sighs. "I don't. But I have been vatching Artur. I spoke with him and Gaius and Merlin a lot yesterday. He is a good man. He loves you. I have never seen so much love in a man since my Nils."

A loud clatter sounds from the courtyard, and all three women turn their heads to the window.

"What is going on?" Gwen asks, standing and walking to the window. They look out at the courtyard to see a large cart trundling in, pulled by several horses.

"Ah, Artur said someting about sending a party back to Helios' fortress to collect, um…"

"Spoils?" Gwen provides the word. Frida nods. "Well, I suppose it is his right, seeing as how he did conquer the place."

"He is sending Percival to lead so dat he can bring back the tings from our room," Frida says quietly.

"That's… thoughtful," Gwen says. "Let's go out and see. Thank you, Elga, the bath was wonderful," she adds, squeezing the older maid's hand.

She takes Frida's arm for support and the two women head out to the courtyard. Frida is nervous; Percival hasn't spoken to her since their lengthy talk yesterday, and she doesn't know how he'll react to seeing her. She's not entirely sure how she'll react to seeing him.

Gwen is unaware of her friend's discomfort, her hazy memory of the events at the fortress preventing her from recalling the sweet glances between the two.

They descend the steps and stand on the cobbles a short distance away, watching Arthur instructing Percival.

"I want to hear," Gwen says, pulling Frida's elbow.

"I…" Frida hesitates, but then Percival looks up and sees them. He smiles the smallest smile Frida has ever seen, but it allows her heart to start and her feet to move.

"…I really don't care what you do with the bodies. Leave them. Dig a hole and toss them all in and burn them. Whatever you wish," Arthur says.

"What of the building?"

"I may send a trustworthy lord out to be caretaker and restore it at a later date. Just… Search the castle and grounds and bring back anything of value, including parchments."  
"Yes, Sire."

"And Percival," he finally says, "do you think you can find Guinevere and Frida's room again?"

"Of course, why?"

"Collect their things and bring them back for them. There's probably not that much, but I promised Frida I would ask this of you."

"Yes, Sire," he repeats, looking over Arthur at the two women again. This time Arthur sees it and turns.

"Guinevere," he says, smiling a very sad smile. "You look beautiful. Do you feel better?" he asks, stepping closer. Hesitantly. Half a step.

"Yes. Cleaner. Elga took very good care of me, thank you."

_So formal. If she calls me "Sire" or "My Lord" I swear I will punch something._

"Arthur?" Percival asks quietly. "Can I have a moment?" His eyes drift over to Frida again.

"Please," Arthur says and Percival approaches Frida. The two of them step a short distance away.

Gwen looks after them, puzzled.

"They… um, Percival and Frida…" Arthur starts, not able to explain what they are because he doesn't know.

"Ah," Gwen understands. _Knight in shining armor, indeed._

"They had a long conversation yesterday," Arthur explains. "I don't know what she told him, but the poor man has been troubled ever since. He doesn't seem to know what to do."

"I think I know what she told him. And it would be a heavy load to take in," she says, looking down. "Especially if he is fond of her."

"She is a good friend to you."

"Yes. Thank you for allowing her to stay. For giving her a job in the castle."

"Least I could do." His hands itch to hold her, pull her close, wrap around her small body, but he keeps them glued behind his back.

_So awkward._

"And thank you for the dress. You didn't need to…"  
"I wanted to."

"Thank you."

They hear Percival clear his throat, and Arthur looks over. The large knight looks a little better. Still not completely happy, but less overwhelmed. "We are ready to depart, my lord."

"Very good. Be back before dark if you can."

"I'm sure we can manage it," he says with a nod. The knight gives Frida one last look, then turns and strides towards his horse.

Gwen feels a tap on her shoulder and she jumps.

"Matthias!" she exclaims, relieved, hugging the boy. Frida smiles and hugs him as well.

Arthur sees this and it puzzles him. _He can hug her?_ Then he remembers. _Gaius touched her shoulder. He is old. Matthias is just a boy, despite the fact that he clearly has a crush on her._

"I'm so glad you are safe. Are they treating you well?" she asks, noticing Arthur is still hovering nearby.

Matthias nods. Then he points to his feet, grinning.

"What? Oh, did you get new boots?" she smiles.

Yes. Then he points at Arthur.

"King Arthur?" Gwen says. Arthur steps forward, curious about what the boy is going to say about him.

Matthias screws up his face, thinking. He points at Arthur again, then he places both hands over his heart. Then he points at Gwen.

_He loves you._

"I know," Gwen whispers, and her heart breaks again. She avoids Arthur's gaze, looking down.

Matthias shakes his head and touches her left hand. She looks up, and the boy's face is quite solemn now. Stern, almost, as if Gwen didn't understand and he is frustrated by it.

The boy sighs and tries again. Pointing sharply at the king.

_Arthur._

The hands on the heart, clasped together tightly now, tapping his heart a few times.

_Loves._

Pointing at Gwen now, almost accusatory.

_You._

Matthias looks hard at her. He points at her again, sadder. _You, Gwen. Just you._

xXx

"Come," Arthur calls, smiling when Gwen opens the door and enters.

"You wished to see me?" she asks, closing the door but hovering close to it.

"Yes. I… I was hoping you might lunch with me."

"Here?" she asks, her eyes darting around the room. _Where is Merlin?_

He sighs. "I will do nothing that you will not allow."

She drops her eyes, once again feeling the stab of his pain, how it mirrors her own. "It is not any easier for me, you know," she says quietly.

"I would think it is probably more difficult for you, actually," he allows.

She looks up, surprised at his understanding words. "Yes, I would like some lunch."

"Good. May I hold your chair for you?"

_Is this how it's going to be? Formalities and questioning every move?_ Gwen wonders. _What has happened to me?_ She nods, and he pulls her chair out for her. She sits, and he gently scoots her in.

They eat quietly, still slightly uncomfortable. Gwen picks at her food more than she eats it.

"Please eat, Guinevere. You need to build your strength back up," he says quietly, concerned for her.

"I know," she says, and pokes a piece of capon clumsily with her left hand.

"Guinevere, I would like you to stay here in the castle," he finally says.

"No," she answers.

"No?"

"I want to go back to my own house. Frida has been staying there, and I wish to return to my home. I… I need to find my way back to myself, Arthur, and I think to do that I need to return to some sort of normal life."

"But…"

"Matthias and another stable boy are bringing over another bed right now, so Frida and I will both have a place to sleep."

"Guinevere, I wish you would reconsider. You do not have to do this."

"Yes, I rather think that I do," she says softly, tossing her fork down, frustrated with trying to eat left-handed. She picks up her goblet and drinks. "I want to resume some of my former servant's duties as well."

"What?"

"Normal life," she repeats. "I need that now. I need to remember who I am. Who I was before… before all this ugliness happened."

"I need you, Guinevere," he says simply.

"Arthur," she looks at him, almost reaching out to take his hand. "Do not take this the wrong way, but I cannot worry about what you need right now."

He knows she does not mean her words in an unkind way, but they still feel like a dagger in his heart.

"I cannot be the Guinevere you need until I figure out who she is again. And if I take rooms in the castle and live the life of a Lady, I won't be able to do that. Because that's not who I am. That's not the person you fell in love with."

She reaches for another piece of meat, using her fingers this time, not caring that she is not being proper. Her left hand is aching slightly from overuse anyway.

"I understand. I think. I'm… trying," he says.

"I know this is difficult for you. But you need to know that however hard this is for you, it is tenfold harder for me." She stands then, walking slightly away from the table. She ends up at the window, looking down at the courtyard, wondering idly about what Arthur is going to do with the treasure his men find at Helios' fortress.

"Guinevere," he says, standing and following her to the window.

"Arthur, I… I do love you. Don't ever doubt that. But…" she pauses, unsure how to continue. "But I need to love myself again. And I cannot do that if I am losing myself in you," she says suddenly, walking away again.

He stares, watching her walk over to his bed. _What is she doing?_ he wonders, but he does not follow.

Gwen stands at his bedside, pondering the ring still on its thong around her neck. She reaches back and undoes the tie.

Looking down at his bedside table, she slides open a drawer and sets the ring on a folded white linen handkerchief.

_No, not a handkerchief,_ she realizes. _A favor._ My _favor. The one I gave him when he was hiding at my house._

_ He kept it. All this time, he's had it beside his bed._

Tears falling from her eyes, she walks toward the doors, pausing next to a side table for a moment.

She scoops up the bundle on the table, cradling his cloak and its returned emblem in her arms.

"Guinevere, when…" he asks, a half-formed question as he steps forward.

"I don't know, Arthur. I don't know." She exits, not looking at him, closing the door quietly behind her.

Arthur crosses quickly to his bed and opens the drawer in his bedside table.

He sees her ring there, sitting atop his most precious possession, and sinks to the floor, sitting with his back against the bed.

xXx

Gwen has been spending most of her time with Gaius, assisting him. Her injured hand prevents her from doing things like helping in the kitchen, doing laundry, and serving at meals (something for which Arthur is actually thankful), but she is still able to gather herbs and help Gaius mix and deliver medicines. She finds the work rewarding and even soothing, as she has always enjoyed helping others.

Arthur decides he needs to woo Guinevere to win her back. He sends Merlin to her house with flowers every third day, so that she always has fresh flowers. He finds excuses to stop in at Gaius' rooms. Looking for Merlin, when he knows exactly where Merlin is. Accompanying Sir Bors when he injured himself during training, something he would normally never do. A splinter in his thumb (which Gwen secretly thinks he did intentionally). He even resorts to "I was just passing and I thought I would stop in and say hello."

One day Gwen came home to find a length of beautiful lavender material with a note saying that he saw it in the market that morning and could not pass it by.

"He is trying, you must give him dat," Frida says, looking up from where she is stitching a dress of her own, a lovely pale blue that matches her eyes.

"He is trying, but he is not succeeding. Does he really not know that I do not need this kind of attention? That I cannot be bought back with these… _things?_" Gwen says sadly, fingering the material. _It is lovely, though,_ she allows, slightly angry with herself at the thought.

"Perhaps you should tell him."

"No. If he can't figure it out on his own, then…"

"Den vat, Gven?" Frida asks, looking up, her hands stilling.

"Then he doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does."

"Gven, you are smart, but you are stubborn," Frida says, stitching again.

"No more stubborn than the king," she answers crossly.

"Dis is new ground for you both, Gven. He doesn't know vat to do either." _She needs to heal, but she needs to accept his help. She cannot do it alone, and I cannot coddle her or she will never grow strong._

"He thinks that just because he's forgiven me and rescued me from the evil Helios that I should just come running back with my arms open. Well, I can't. You don't know how many times he pushed me away in the past, only to pull me back, Frida. I'm tired. I'm tired and I'm broken. Helios broke me, and if Arthur thinks that his gifts will mend me, he is wrong."

"And dat is vy you need to tell him. You need to help him so he can help you."

Gwen finds herself losing patience with Frida, feeling slightly betrayed, even. She turns to her. "And how are things with Sir Percival?"

Frida looks up. _So this is the game we play now?_ "Percival is kind and patient. He vas shocked and saddened by all dat I told him. And I did tell him _everyting,_" she says pointedly. "He still vishes to court me, but I am not ready for dat yet. He says he vill vait until I am."

Gwen sighs, defeated, her petty sniping at Frida now feeling small. "He is a good man. You could not to better than Percival," she says kindly, but sadly.

"Tank you, Gven."

That night, the nightmares return. Only this time they are not of Arthur and Lancelot, they are of Helios. His hands on her, his lips and tongue, his eyes raking lustily over her as she is literally unable to move, to run. In her dream, she is frozen, splayed on his bed. All she can do is scream, so scream she does.

Frida flies from her bed at Gwen's shouts of "no" and "stop" and "Arthur" and "please," shushing and stroking her hair, trying to still her flailing arms so she doesn't re-injure her almost-healed hand.

"Gven… Gven," she calls softly. "It's all right. You are home now."

There is a soft knock at the door, and a hushed voice. "Gwen? Gwen, are you all right?"

_Who is this now?_ Frida thinks, creeping to the door. She knows it is not Arthur, having quickly picked up on the fact that he only ever calls her Guinevere.

"Who is it?" she asks the door.

"Elyan. Her brother. Is she all right?" the voice asks urgently.

"Let him in, Frida," Gwen's sleepy voice calls. Frida opens the door for Gwen's brother, who hurries in.

"Gwen… I heard you screaming… are you all right?" he asks, crouching beside her bed.

"Yes. Just a bad dream…" she says vaguely, shaking her head to attempt to rid herself of the lingering images. "Wait, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"I've been doing overnight patrol in the lower town," he says, looking slightly sheepish.

"You hate overnight patrol."

"We _all_ hate overnight patrol. But I volunteered."

"So you could keep an eye on me," she says knowingly. He nods.

"Elyan…"

"No, Gwen, listen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I chose the wrong side. I chose my artificially-elevated station over blood, and I feel like a worm because of it. I knew you wouldn't want to see me, and so I decided that if I could do this one thing for you, make sure you were safe while you slept, I could start to forgive myself." He is very close to tears now. "And perhaps you could start to forgive me."

"That's why I haven't seen you around," she says quietly. "You've been sleeping during the day."

He nods. "I go to bed after the morning training is done. And I'm not hanging about just outside your house all night, honest. I am doing proper patrol, just… doing it in your neighborhood," he says with a half-smile. "And you were screaming quite loud."

He looks so pathetic, so like the little boy she had to constantly keep from getting into trouble when they were young, that she cannot stay mad. She knows he feels awful and has probably been beating himself up over this since she left. Any punishment she could heap on would be no worse than the punishments he's already imposed on himself.

She takes his hands, and pulls him up to sit beside her on the bed. "Thank you, Elyan. I was angry with you, yes. I was angry with everyone. Arthur. Merlin. Lancelot. Gaius. Mostly Arthur. But even more than him, I was angry with myself, and I still am."

"Gwen, Arthur has forgiven you. You need to forgive yourself, now. And him."

"I know that. It's just not that simple any more, Elyan. Helios saw to that."

xXx

The next afternoon, Gwen heads home early, a throbbing headache plaguing her. Gaius gave her a tonic and sent her home to rest. Her splint has been removed also, the knuckle where her index finger meets her hand now slightly larger, knobbier than it once was.

"I'm afraid you'll have to live with a lump," Gaius declares. "Consider it a trophy, Gwen. You earned this lump saving Camelot – and yourself – from a tyrant."

She passes the training fields, stopping to watch. As expected, she doesn't see Elyan. In fact, she doesn't recognize anyone except Arthur and Leon, both strolling among the ranks, giving instructions.

_New recruits,_ she realizes. Just then Arthur stops and looks up, his sharp eyes recognizing her small form on the horizon. He lifts a hand and waves, once, a tad shyly.

She waves back and heads towards her house and her bed.

When she enters, she sees another gift waiting for her on her table.

_What now?_ she thinks, lifting the item, wrapped in a piece of cloth. It is heavy and hard.

She unwraps it to find a beautiful silver hair comb, wrought to resemble a dragon, yet it is still undeniably feminine and very beautiful.

Gwen drops it on the table. _That. Is. It._ Something snaps inside her, and she paces, ignoring her headache.

_The worst part is now I have to_ wait _because he's in training._

Sighing heavily, she wraps the comb back in the cloth, unable to even look at it. She drops onto her bed finally, frustrated, trying to hold on to her anger, trying to keep it bright and hot until she can loose it on her target.

She does eventually fall into a fitful sleep, Gaius' tonic taking hold. The sounds from the street as the townspeople go about their lives drifts into her consciousness from time to time. A young child being scolded by his mother. A dog barking. Someone chopping wood.

Gwen wakes at dusk, blinking, slightly confused from her midday sleep. She looks around her house and her eyes eventually land on the comb wrapped in its cloth.

_Right._

She knocks on Arthur's door, interrupting his dinner.

"Come."

She opens the door and he smiles at her. "Ah, Guinevere, I was just thinking about you," he starts.

Gwen tosses the comb on the table. "What is this?" she asks.

Arthur is confused. "A… a gift?"

"Yes, I know. You've been doing little more than bestowing me with gifts since I woke."

"I thought you would like them," he says, frowning, still puzzled.

"You thought I would _like_ having _things_ gifted me like I was some sort of… _kept_ woman?"

"Guinevere, I…"

"You say you know me so well, Arthur. Is this really what you think I want from you? Do you know how this makes me feel?"

"I was trying…"

"It makes me feel like you think you can just _buy_ my affections back, Arthur!"

"Guinevere, may I speak?" he asks, raising his voice slightly. He stands now, walking around to lean against the table.

"I'm sorry. Yes," she shrinks back slightly, retreating a little into herself again.

Arthur hates himself immediately. "I'm sorry. I… I was trying to… to woo you, to make you feel that you were important to me."

"I have never been interested in things, Arthur. I thought you knew that," she says quietly. "When you grow up with nothing, you find value in things like sunshine, a kind word, a cool breeze on your skin. The stars at night. Flowers." She looks up. "I did like the flowers," she admits.

"A small victory. I… Guinevere, it was never my intention to offend you with my tokens."

"I know. It was never my intention to get myself banished from the kingdom, either," she says, surprising them both with the bitterness of her words.

"Guinevere, if I could go back in time and change my decision, I would. Please. I cannot do this, this…" he gestures grandly around, indicating _everything,_ "ruling of a kingdom without you."

"You may have to, Arthur," she says coldly.

"Please don't say that. I… you have no idea how sorry I am. For everything that's happened."

"Now you know how I felt the day you banished me."

He sighs heavily. _I deserved that._ "I was wrong to banish you. I acted rashly. I thought… I thought that I wouldn't be able to trust you again, despite the fact that I still loved you with my entire being."

She looks up at him, her face sad but expectant. So he goes on.

"I thought if you were gone, I could erase you from me. That I could just go on without you, but you had already been the keeper of my heart for so long that when you left, you took it with you."

"I also know now that I was wrong to think that I couldn't trust you," he adds.

Gwen says nothing for a long moment, looking down at her hands, at the small knob left from her fracture.

"So that's it then? You decided that you can trust me after all, so I'm just supposed to come running back to you?"

"Um…"

"Is that all I am to you? Someone you can toy with, order about like one of your precious knights?"

"Guinevere, I…" he steps forward, thrown off-course once again.

"Don't you dare say you love me, Arthur Pendragon. I waited for you. You kissed me that morning in my house and my heart took flight. Then you told me we could never be because of your _father,_" she spits this last word.

"Our love broke an enchantment, but I still kept those other parting words close to my heart, even when you confessed your love." Her voice is rising now.

"Still, I waited. I had offers, believe me. I could have run off with Gwaine, even! But I stayed true to you, in the _foolish_ hope that just _maybe…_" her voice breaks now.

"What's going on?" Merlin asks Gwaine, lurking in the corridor.

"Gwen is yelling at Arthur," Gwaine says.

"And you're eavesdropping?" Merlin asks.

"Of course not. I'm patrolling."

Merlin gives him a sideways look and heads towards Arthur's chambers, hoping he can maybe help prevent a catastrophe. He slips into the room as Gwen turns on Arthur again.

"I took care of your _father_ for you, for _you!_ despite my own feelings for him! And then even after you called me 'inappropriate' I took you back because I knew those really weren't your words! You have abused my heart enough, Arthur! It cannot take any more!"

"I…" he starts, but she cuts him off.

"All these things I did out of my love for you, all this time I stood by and supported you! And then I make one mistake, a mistake that puzzles me to this day, a mistake for which I cannot even fathom a reason; _one_ mistake and you turn your back on me and cast me out! Is that fair? Is that just? Is that how a good king treats his subjects, let alone his fiancée?" Tears are streaming from her eyes now.

"Why could you not believe in me? You claim to know me… I didn't know myself at the time… but still… why did you never once even try to make the effort?"

"Guinevere, I… I don't know what to say other than I am sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for sending me out into the world alone and unprotected? Sorry for letting me fall into Helios' clutches? Sorry for letting that bastard _rape_ me?"

He says nothing.

"None of that would have happened if you hadn't banished me!"

"I wouldn't have banished you if you hadn't been kissing _Lancelot_ on the night before our _wedding!_" He finally snaps, and regrets it immediately, pressing his lips together, pain in his eyes. Merlin steps forward.

"You should have just executed me," Gwen says quietly.

Arthur looks like he has been struck physically by her words. He reels, and Merlin finally speaks.

"You don't mean that, Gwen," he says gently, trying to be the reasonable one.

She wheels on Merlin now. "Oh, yes, because you know me _so_ well, don't you, Merlin? You, one of the two people I thought would stand by me, and _neither one of you did!_"

"Gwen, I tried…"

"You _tried?_ Is that what you were doing when you stood there watching me push that heavy cart away from my home, the only home I have ever known?"

Merlin says nothing, his face sad as his heart falls.

She turns back to Arthur. "I do love you, Arthur," she says, her voice calming some, but still shaking. "I love you so much it hurts. But then, there are times, moments where I _hate_ you. And the hate crawls inside the love and it hurts even more. And until I can figure out what to do with those feelings, I cannot be with you."

"Guinevere, please… I love you. I need you," he says, desperate now. "I love you so much," he whispers hoarsely, tears welling in his eyes.

Gwen closes her eyes, and tears stream down her cheeks. "If this is the treatment you give someone you claim to love, then I am very glad that I am not your enemy," she says, striding to the door.

xXx

"Merlin, what is wrong with you? You never hesitate to stand up to me when I yell at you, but Guinevere tears into you and you stand there and just take it?" Arthur asks, taking his anguish out on Merlin yet again.

"Yes, Arthur, that's correct," Merlin answers calmly, wiping an errant tear from his cheek.

His answer pulls Arthur up short. He stares after his servant as he strides over, carelessly tossing Arthur's dinner dishes on the tray, and stomps from the room.

"Merlin, what on earth is wrong with you?" Gaius asks when he sees Merlin's face. He is hurt. Upset. Chastised.

"Gwen yelled at Arthur and me. Mostly Arthur. A lot." He plops down in a chair.

Gaius shrugs. "Only a matter of time, really," he says casually.

"Gee, thank you for your support," Merlin snaps.

Gaius turns back to the wizard. "So you think her anger is not justified?"

"No. It is completely justified, actually. Which is why I feel terrible. Everything she said was absolutely right."

"Gwen has to get angry, Merlin. She needs to loose her rage or she will lose her mind holding it in. Even with you."

"I've never seen her that mad before. She really laid into Arthur."

"What did he do?"

"He is beside himself, actually. He only yelled once, and I think he regretted it instantly."

"I'm sure."

"I know I should be there for him, but… if I'm there for him, who is going to be there for me?"

"He would be."  
"No, he wouldn't. He can't. Nor should he. His hurt is much deeper than mine; if he is consoling me then he isn't working out his own troubles."

"I guess you'll have to settle for me, then," Gaius says, patting Merlin on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Gaius. I'm… I'm okay, actually. I would like to talk to Gwen, though."

"Give her some time to calm down," Gaius advises.

"I'm not stupid," he chuckles, picking a grape from a bunch sitting on the table. Gaius putters about while Merlin idly peels the skin from his grape, playing with it, not really interested in eating it.

"I sometimes wish I could just cast a spell and erase both their hurts," he says suddenly.

"I thought you said you weren't stupid," Gaius squints at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You cannot take away something this big, Merlin. Something that affects both of them this much. They must be allowed to work it out themselves, to learn to deal with this mess, the hurts, the pain. They need it to grow both as individuals and as a couple."

Merlin drops his head. "I know. It's just so hard for me to see them like this." He holds the peeled grape between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes it. The flesh yields and splits in several places, juice running down his hand now. He squeezes until he feels the hard seed against his flesh, then he drops it on the table.

"Merlin…" Gaius chides.

"Sorry." He stares at the mess, his eyes flash and the grape is fully restored. "No sense in wasting perfectly good food," he says, popping it in his mouth finally.

"Going to look for Gwen," he says, heading for the door.

He finds her on the steps outside, where he and Arthur have sat many times.

"Gwen?" he says gently.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I did not mean to explode at you like that," she says, not turning around.

"No, you were right. I should have stood by you. At least helped you push your cart awhile," he tries a very small joke, nudging her with his elbow.

She smiles very slightly. "I'm so confused all the time, Merlin. I don't know how to act around him, even around you."

"Why? I mean I know why him, but why me?"

"Because I was still angry at you, deep down. Besides, you're his servant, Merlin. You may be my closest and dearest friend, but you are also his closest and dearest friend. Even though he'll never admit it."

"I know. But…"

"And I have other friends, Merlin. Well, at the moment, I have Frida. I have someone to confide in, someone to talk with. He doesn't. Only you. And you need to be there for him, Merlin, because I can't be yet."

"Right now I think I need to be here for you. Frida is lovely and intelligent, but she doesn't know the history. Not really. She didn't live it with you like I did."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, Gwen. It sounds so… inadequate to say it, but I am sorry."

"I know."

"I had to…"

"I know, Merlin. It's all right."

"I want you to know, though, that I did try to convince Arthur to reconsider banishing you."

"Thank you."

"He is pigheaded, though."

"Very."

"Especially when he's hurt. Gwen, he was a mess without you."

She says nothing, looking down at her hands again.

"Everyone tiptoed around him. He was brutal on the knights in their training. He threw things at me. He… he rarely slept, and if he did, it was usually at his desk or hunched over his table."

"What?"

"He wouldn't sleep in his bed."

"Because I was supposed to be in it with him," she says quietly.

"I think so."

"He tried to forget you, to put you out of his mind, but he couldn't. Of course, I was no help there."

"What do you mean?"

"I would let reminders of you slip from time to time. He forbade me to say your name, but I got him to utter it once or twice," he says, smirking slightly.

"Merlin, that's mean," she says, but she finds her own lips twisting into a devilish smile.

"Even when the princess… oh." He stops himself.

Gwen turns. "What princess?" she asks, her face deadly serious.

_Bloody hell, you've done it now, Merlin._

"Um, Arthur was going to cement an alliance with Nemeth…"

"Through marriage."

Merlin nods, unable to look at her. _She sounds calm, but I'm not risking anything._

"And this princess. She came here?" her voice is calm, measured.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And he couldn't go through with it. Because of you."

She reaches over and turns his face to look at her. "Merlin, you are being deliberately obtuse."

"Yes, because I didn't intend to tell you any of this."

He studies her face. Her eyes are pained, not angry. Her face is expectant, as if she needs to hear about Arthur rejecting another woman, a princess, for her.

Merlin swallows hard and continues. "I was against it as soon as he made the announcement, before she even arrived," he begins, intending to cement himself as Good Guy immediately. "It was very sudden; we were all shocked. I called him out on it. He yelled at me and I stood my ground. I reminded him that he still loved you and he threatened to banish me along with you."

"Sounds like him."

"She was lovely and kind, but she was not right for him. She liked him. And she saw right through me. She knew I was against it, asked me to give her a chance."

"Did you?"

"Not really, though I assured her I would."

"What happened?"

"Um… he kissed her."

"Oh." She drops her head.

"He only did it because he felt it was expected of him. And then he knew immediately that he couldn't marry her."

"Why not?"

"Because she wasn't you, obviously."

"How…?"

"She took it well, considering. He was honest with her, and she respected that. She wants to meet you."

"I don't think I am ready for that. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that."

"He gave her the disputed lands of Gedref as an apology. He did not want to cause offense, so he offered her everything he could except himself. Because that belongs to you, Gwen."

"He gave up Gedref?" she asks, looking at Merlin with wonder.

He nods. "Quite willingly. And he said the most beautiful thing about you as well."

"What was it?"

"She asked all about you, and he told her you were a blacksmith's daughter, that you were a commoner. The princess was amazed that Arthur was willing to risk so much, his kingdom, his kingship for you."

Gwen waits, fresh tears of a different kind surfacing now. "He told her that without you, the kingdom is worth nothing to him."

xXx

Arthur keeps to himself much the next day, staying in his room, leaving Leon in charge of training, canceling the Council meeting.

"Just leave me, Merlin," he says glumly, perched on the end of his bed with his feet on the chest at the end, idly playing with her ring, turning it about in his fingers, threading the leather thong between them.

"No."

"I saw you talking to her last night. On the steps."

"Yes. I went and apologized to her."

"What did she say?"

"She accepted my apology and told me that I need to be here for you."

He sighs. _Ever selfless Guinevere._ "Sounds like her."

"If you need to talk…"

"I don't even know what I would say. Where to begin."

"Well, I am here if you need me, Arthur."

"I know, Merlin. Thank you."

"Do you need anything?"

"No. Just… keep anyone away that isn't Guinevere," he says sadly, swinging the ring on its cord between his knees now.

"Of course. And I assume I can come back in if I need to," Merlin says, smirking.

Arthur gives him an exasperated stare, but Merlin simply continues grinning and turns towards the door.

Alone, he flops back on the bed and stares at the canopy.

_What are you going to do, Arthur? She doesn't want your gifts. She shies away from your touch._

_ If only there were some way I could show her what she means to me, how important she is to me. And to the kingdom._

_ I need her by my side. I cannot do this without her. I am not myself without her._

He holds the ring up in front of his face, stroking it, feeling the etched surface with his thumbs.

_What do I do? Do I leave her be and hope that she comes around on her own? She says she still loves me, and I believe her. I can't expect that just because I want her to be better she will be._

He sighs. _Patience is not something I have been blessed abundantly with. But I have to find some. For her._

He runs the leather cord between his fingers, then he impulsively holds the leather to his nose.

_It smells like her._ After all that time around her neck, the leather cord has absorbed her lavender scent.

Arthur closes his eyes now, trying to remember how she looked when she gave him that sweet smile that she only wore for him, the sound of her laughter. Happy memories that seem to be fading. His heart lurches in his chest.

Cursing aloud, he rolls to the side and off the bed, pacing a little. He goes to the window and opens it, looking down into the courtyard.

Gwen is walking purposely through the courtyard, a basket looped around her arm, her petite legs carrying her swiftly and gracefully.

Arthur turns and heads for his door.

Moments later, he peeks into Gaius' rooms. Gaius is there alone, having just sent Gwen out to deliver medicine, Merlin off doing only the gods know what.

"Gaius?" he asks, stepping in.

"Sire, what can I do for you? Knee giving you any trouble?"

"No," he says.

"Guinevere just left, I'm afraid," he says.

"I know. I… I wanted to talk to you, actually."

"Of course. What's on your mind, Arthur?" He comes over and sits across from the king.

"I need your advice. I'm… I'm stuck."

"You don't know what to do about Gwen."

Arthur nods. He is toying with her ring again, and he only realizes he's brought it with him when he sees Gaius look down at it.

"Is that her betrothal ring?"

"Yes."

"I hope she didn't give it back permanently."

"Me too."

"Arthur," Gaius says, furrowing his rather impressive eyebrows, "what have you been doing? How have you been trying to help her?"

"Flowers. Gifts. I've been patient; more patient than I thought I could be. She had lunch with me, alone, and that ended badly." He looks at the ring again. "I've been trying to woo her back, but she still shrinks away."

"Arthur, she already knows you love her. She knows what your intentions are," Gaius says, his voice calm and wise. "She doesn't need you to woo her. Gwen has been through quite an ordeal, and mental hurts are often the deepest and the most hidden. What she needs is for you to _understand_ her. She needs to know that she can trust you; that you aren't going to hurt her again."

"Understand her…" Arthur repeats softly.

"Try to understand what she's been through. Try to see it through her eyes. Let her know that she isn't worthless, because that's likely how she feels."

Arthur ponders his words, wondering how on earth he's going to accomplish this. _After last night, I don't know how long it will be before I even see her again to speak with her._

"Arthur?" Gaius asks, angling his head to look at him.

"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur says, smiling weakly before standing and walking slowly out, deep in thought.


	6. Understanding

There is a skirmish near the western borders of the kingdom involving some thugs menacing a peaceful Druid camp, so the next day, Arthur and a small party of knights ride out.

Arthur didn't really need to go, but since it was involving the Druids, he wanted to go as an act of good faith, to further help repair the relationship with the Druids and the kingdom of Camelot.

That, and he wasn't sure how to face Guinevere yet.

They rode out in the morning, watched unknowingly by Gwen from a small window overlooking the courtyard. She looks down at them, saying a silent prayer for their safety. She sees Frida standing off to one side, surreptitiously. She watches and smiles as she sees Percival give Frida a tiny wave, which the maid shyly returns.

Gwen's emotions are in turmoil watching him leave. Her anger has faded almost completely, but she doesn't know how to face him now, after all her harsh words. All she knows is that if something happens when he's gone that prevents him from returning to her, she will surely crumble into dust.

They are gone for nearly two days, returning just after noon, in high spirits. The courtyard is ringing with male laughter as the knights joke with each other, teasing this one and that for various mishaps in whatever battles they may have been in.

Gwen peeks from a window in Gaius' rooms, smiling when she sees that Arthur appears well and whole, but then frowning when she sees that he is not joining in the general revelry, his face still serious.

"Would you like to go down?" Gaius asks, noticing her looking out at them.

"No, it's all right, Gaius, thank you," she says, disappearing just as Arthur's face finds her window.

He smiles sadly, only having seen the swish of her hair as she turned away. _She was watching, even if I missed her._

After dinner, a soft knock comes at Arthur's door.

"Come," he calls from where he is standing, contemplating the fireplace, watching the flames dance as they warm him.

"Arthur?" Gwen calls timidly, and once again Arthur is pleased that she never reverted to addressing him by his title. _At least still I have that much._

"Guinevere," he says nervously, closing his hand around her ring that he had once again been holding like a security blanket.

"Um, I've brought your cloak back," she says quietly, her voice a little nervous, holding up the folded red cloth. "Good as new."

"Thank you. You didn't have to mend it, you know."

She sets it on the table. "I know. I wanted to. I'm only sorry it took so long."

"You had a broken hand, Guinevere," he chuckles, and is rewarded with the smallest of smiles.

Gwen opens her mouth as if she is about to say something, then closes it again. _I still don't know what to say._ "Good night," she says instead, turning to leave.

"Guinevere, will you stay and talk with me?"

She hesitates, her hand on the door. _I want to. I really do. My heart aches to be so near him, yet I still cannot seem to let myself let him close again._

"Please?"

She turns to look at him, and he has stepped closer, his face unguarded and hopeful. Sad. So sad. She looks down and sees the leather thong still bearing her ring dangling from between his fingers, and her resolve bends a little.

"Very well," she says, heading for the table.

"No, over here, by the fireplace where it's warm," he says.

She bites her lip and follows him to the fireplace. He sits on an upholstered bench and indicates that she should join him.

Gwen holds her breath a moment, then sits stiffly beside him, close enough to be polite, but far enough so that they are not touching.

"How was your journey?" she asks.

_Ah. So it's polite conversation. Better than no conversation._ "It was very good. Productive. We pretty well made sure that those thugs will never bother anyone ever again, especially the Druids. Or anyone from Camelot."

"That's good. I'm glad that you are mending that relationship."

"They were lovely and hospitable, actually," he says, his fingers twitching idly on his lap. "They… they knew about you. About us. Even knew your name, and none of us had spoken it."

"What?" she looks at him finally, surprised.

"Yes. The head priest in the camp, he told me to look after you. Take care of you, keep you safe. Help you heal," he says quietly.

"That is very kind of him to say. And I know that's what you've been trying to do," she admits, indirectly addressing her outburst days before.

"Yes, but I've been doing it wrong," he sighs, reaching out slowly for her hand. She stiffens almost imperceptibly beside him, and he brings his hand back to his lap.

"Is it really so difficult to let me touch you?" he asks, then immediately backpedals. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound insensitive, I am just trying to understand. That's what I should have been doing all along."

"I know you mean no disrespect, Arthur," she says quietly, then adds, even quieter, "And I want to be close to you again."

"You do?"

"But…" She fidgets with her skirt in her lap.

"Guinevere… I don't know that I'll ever be able to fully understand, but will you help me try?" Arthur asks quietly, watching her sadly, her skin glowing gold in the firelight. _She looks so beautiful, but so sad._

Gwen stares at the fire for a long while. She looks down at her hands, running her thumb over the bump on her knuckle. When she looks at Arthur, the sadness in her face wrenches his heart.

_I cannot remember the last time I saw her truly smile._

"What's the worst feeling you can imagine, Arthur?"

"I don't have to imagine. It was when I lost you."

She sighs. "Less specific, Arthur, more general. Broader," she clarifies, then tries a different approach. "How did you feel watching your father die?" she asks quietly.

"Sad. Angry."

"And why were you angry?"

"Because I felt helpless. Hopeless. All these terrible things were unfolding around me and there was _nothing I could do._ I felt the same way when I realized that I wanted, no, _needed_ you back here with me, and I had no idea where you were."

"Helpless. You are a man of power; feeling helpless must be very distressing indeed," she says, but not unkindly.

"Yes. I think I'm beginning to understand…"

"_Beginning_ to. Now, imagine that helpless feeling, and all the bad things happening around you are actually happening directly _to_ you. And you're completely. Trapped."

He says nothing, but she can see the pain in his eyes. He carefully, slowly reaches for her hand. She allows it, and he almost leaps for joy.

"Powerless, Arthur. You would think that someone who has been a servant her whole life would be accustomed to feeling powerless. But it is different. So different," she says, pausing, sniffling as a tear rolls down her cheek. "I am used to following orders, to serving others. But something like _that,_ something so… personal… _intimate…_" She trails off a moment, and that haunted look crosses her face again. "It was so humiliating, so mortifying. I spent the entire time wishing that I would just die. Something that was supposed to be so beautiful got turned so ugly, so wrong, so _dirty._ And that's how I feel, Arthur. Dirty. Worthless. Ruined."

Arthur's heart is breaking again, watching his beautiful Guinevere crumble before him as she bravely relives her horror, just so that he can attempt to understand.

"You know it doesn't matter to me that you are no longer a maiden," he whispers tenderly, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

"I know," she allows. "But that's not actually the point. There is no going back, no taking back what he did to me." Her breath catches now and she is crying fully, pulling her hand away from his to cover her face as she weeps.

"Shh," Arthur tries to console her, reaching his hand towards her but stopping himself. His hand hovers in midair as he feels the tears running down his own face now. He touches her shoulder, and she doesn't shrink from him. "Will you let me hold you, Guinevere?" he croaks, "Please?"

She slowly nods after a long moment, and he pulls her into his embrace, gently, so gently, not wishing to frighten her or upset her any more. She sobs into his chest, her tears soaking into the white linen of his shirt, his tears falling onto the top of her head.

"I have so little to give you," she whispers hoarsely against him. "That… that was supposed to be yours…"

"You have already given me so much," he says, tightening his arms around her just slightly, holding her a little closer. "And I know… I know that as my wife and my queen you will continue to give me everything I need to be happy. Your support. Your wisdom. Your honesty." He pauses, swallowing. "Your love."

She relaxes a little against him, her hand resting on his chest.

"You may feel worthless, Guinevere, but I would still give up this entire kingdom if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you. That is how much worth you have."

Something breaks inside her and she sobs harder now. Arthur still holds her, tentatively stroking her hair now.

"And I promise you, Guinevere, that I will never, _ever_ hurt you again," he says, his emotions making his voice hoarse.

"That is not something you can promise," she whispers into his chest.

He thinks a moment. _She's right. I can't promise that._ "Then I promise I will do everything in my power to never, ever hurt you again," he amends. "Your pain is like a knife in my heart," he whispers now, his lips against her hair.

She weeps against him, letting him hold her, finally allowing herself to be soothed by his presence.

"Thank you, Arthur," she whispers after a time, hiccupping, trying to calm herself.

Gwen pulls back and looks up at him, her eyes, swollen and red-rimmed, blinking at him as he watches her through his own glassy blue eyes.

Before either of them realize what's happening, their lips meet, softly, gently, warm and pliable.

_How…?_ he thinks, his heart thumping so hard she can probably feel it against hers.

Gwen's fingers curl, bunching his shirt in her fist, and she is lost.

_It's like home. His love is like a balm on my heart. How could I not have known?_

Arthur wants nothing more than to slide his tongue between her lips and plunder the warm familiar crevices of her delicious mouth, but he holds back, quite content to be able to even just kiss her at all.

Slowly they part, and Arthur opens his eyes, gazing down at her. He carefully lifts his hand to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She doesn't jump.

His heart swells in his chest and he almost starts crying again.

"I love you, Arthur," she says, "I never once stopped."

Arthur hugs her to him again, squeezing tightly, burying his face in her neck.

She tenses briefly, but then relaxes.

_Too fast._ "Sorry," he mutters into her neck.

"Don't let go."

xXx

Merlin enters the royal bedchamber later that night to find Arthur smiling.

"Who are you and what have you done with Arthur?" he asks, freezing in his tracks.

"She kissed me, Merlin. Tonight. She kissed me and told me she loved me. She told me she loved me and didn't follow it with 'but.'" Arthur cannot stop smiling.

"She kissed you?" Merlin asks, stepping forward, a grin spreading over his face now.

"Or I kissed her and she let me," he says, waving his hand vaguely. "Not quite sure how it happened, but that's _not important._"

"What happened?"

"We talked," Arthur says, following Merlin as he heads over to turn down the bedcovers, probably uselessly, but he always makes the effort.

"She came and returned my cloak, which she mended herself even though she didn't have to, and I asked her to stay and talk and she _did._"

"I knew you'd figure it out," Merlin says, smiling to himself at Arthur's rambling.

"Well, I did talk to Gaius, to be honest. He helped me realize what I was doing wrong."

"And what was that?"

"Oh, only everything," Arthur laughs.

"Did… did she say anything about the other night?"

"Not a word. And if she had tried to apologize, I would have told her that she has no reason to apologize anyway."

Arthur sleeps in his bed that night.

xXx

"Frida?" Gwen calls softly when she enters her house.

"Gven! I vas getting vorried!" Frida exclaims, sitting up and lighting a candle.

"Sorry," she apologizes.

"Vat happened? Vy so late?"

"I was with Arthur, actually," she says, sitting on her bed.

"Really? More yelling?"

"No," Gwen chuckles. "No more yelling. It was… nice. We talked."

"Good."

"And…" she looks down at her feet. "I think I kissed him."

"You _tink?_"

"Well we definitely kissed. I'm just… not sure who kissed who, exactly."

"Ya…?" she asks, leading her.

"It felt good. It felt right. Like… a missing piece of my heart returned."

"Dat is good, Gven," Frida says, smiling a sad smile.

"Does such talk make you think of Nils?" Gwen asks quietly.

"Ya. But it is okay. I have finally made my peace vit him, I tink. Now that I am someplace good and can think clearly again. I have had longer to heal from my vounds than you did and had the time to harden myself against… _him_… that you did not have. I vill be fine."

"You will be more than fine, Frida," Gwen says, reaching across, holding her hand out to her friend. Frida puts her hand in Gwen's and Gwen squeezes reassuringly.

"Tank you."

"I am exhausted, though," Gwen says, releasing Frida's hand and beginning to undress for the night.

"I vould tink so," Frida lays back down. "Percival brought me flowers today," she says suddenly.

"Did he, now? That's lovely."

"Ya. I do like him very much. He is big like the men of my home, but kinder and gentler. Doesn't feel he has to pound skulls to prove he is man."

"Wait till you see him in battle," Gwen chuckles. "But you're right. His natural disposition is very sweet."

"Champion in battle but gentle ven not in battle. _Dat_ is man," Frida says, smiling to herself.

"But you're still not ready for anything more, I take it," smiling at her friend's fondness for one of her favorite knights.

"Not yet. I tink soon."

Gwen blows out the candle and settles down into her bed, feeling a happy sleepiness falling over her for the first time in a very long time.

"Frida?" she asks again after a few minutes.

"Ya?"

"I think I'm ready to be strong again. Move forward. I'm tired of jumping at shadows, tired of flinching when any man comes near me."

"Good."

"I'm tired of being _scared_ all the time."

"Ya. Dis is very good, Gven."

"If I am the queen… I will be able to… _help_ people, Frida."

"Ya. Because you know how it feels to suffer."

"Ya," Gwen echoes.

Frida chuckles, then asks, "Vat do you mean, 'if?'"

xXx

After lunch the next day, Gwen knocks on Arthur's door.

"Come," he calls.

Gwen enters, standing a little taller than she had been recently, looking a little more like her old self.

"Good morning, Guinevere," he smiles at her.

"Good morning," she says.

"What can I do for you?" he asks, smiling.

"I've made a decision," she says, trying to sound confident.

"Oh?" _You'll take your ring back and marry me?_ He leans against the table, facing her.

"I need to find my strength again. I need to be strong now. If I continue to shrink and hide, then Helios has damaged me forever, and I cannot let that happen. Because then I am still under his thumb though he is dead and gone."

Arthur loves hearing these words. _She is coming through._ "Yes, Love, you cannot let him continue to torment you from beyond the grave. You are too good, you have too much to offer, to walk around here like you are a ghost yourself."

Gwen reaches out then, actually taking his hands in hers. Her cool, slender fingers feel so good against his skin.

"Please marry me," he blurts out without even thinking.

"Maybe," she answers, releasing his hands.

"Maybe?"

She fidgets a minute. _Dare I say it?_ "I… I think I need to…" she bites her lip and looks down.

"What do you need, Guinevere?" he asks quietly, lifting her chin. "You know you have only to ask."

_Be brave. Strength, Gwen, strength._ "I need to lay with you first," she tells her shoes.

_What?_ His jaw drops. "Isn't that… kind of… backwards…?" he stammers, his mind reeling.

"Yes, I know." She gathers her resolve and continues despite her furiously-blushing cheeks. "It's a bit… odd, yes, but I need to know that I _can_ give myself to you before I commit to marrying you. I need to know that I will be able to be your wife in every way. Because if I cannot do it, then… then I should not be your wife."

"Oh," is all he can think to say. _When? Do we set a date? Make an appointment? When? Now? Now is good…_

Gwen looks back up at him and the expression on his face actually makes her laugh a little. "Arthur, you look like you just swallowed a wilderen."

_Dare I ask?_ "When?" he croaks.

She presses her lips together and looks down again, blushing further. "Tomorrow night?" she whispers.

_Not tonight? Easy, man. Don't rush her. That would be bad._

He once again lifts her face, only this time he bends and kisses her, still relishing the simple fact that she lets him.

"I have no plans," he says, trying to appear calm.

"I will…" she pauses, trying not to lose her nerve, "I will return after dinner tomorrow, then."

"Will you not join me for dinner tomorrow? Here, alone?"

"No, Arthur," she answers. _I am nervous enough, if I have to sit through a meal with him knowing what we will be doing after, I surely will die._

xXx

_Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear_ is the mantra running through Gwen's head the rest of the day. _I can't believe what I just committed to. Why did I say it? And now the words are out, and it's too late._

_ I can change my mind. He may be disappointed, but he will understand. I know he will._

"Gwen? Guinevere?" Gaius calls to her, snapping her out of her panicked thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"Are you all right, dear? If you pound that chamomile any more it'll be so fine that it will just float away."

She looks down and the mortar and pestle in her hands, at the dried chamomile she's been grinding for only the gods know how long.

"Sorry. Just a little preoccupied this afternoon," she says setting the pestle aside and portioning the pulverized chamomile into a few jars.

"Seems you are preoccupied with something good, though."

"I hope so," she answers cryptically.

"I must admit that I noticed a change in you right away this morning. So did Merlin. You seem more… yourself."

"I feel more myself, Gaius. I feel… better."

"Things are better with Arthur, then?"

She blushes deeper and manages a careful "Yes" before turning away so he can't see her face.

_It must be written all over it._

"Good. The two of you are destined to be together, you know," Gaius says.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Arthur's destiny is to be a great king. Your destiny, and Merlin's destiny, is to guide him there, to make sure he keeps his arrogant head on his shoulders and his feet firmly on the ground," he says, his eyes twinkling.

Gwen laughs a little. "Merlin told me that he was insufferable when I was gone."

"Not all the time," Gaius says.

"Oh?"

"I'm sure he was quite pleasant when he was asleep."

xXx

"Frida?" Gwen asks that night, once again seeking the safety of the dark to talk to her friend.

"Ya?"

"I did something today that was either quite brilliant or extraordinarily foolish."

"And you need me to help you decide vich?"

"Maybe. I… I told Arthur that I wished to lay with him before I could consent to marrying him."

Frida is silent, mulling over Gwen's confession.

"You… you are vishing to find out if you can, ya? If you can allow yourself to be loved by him, um, physically?"

"Yes. At least I hope that's the reason," she says, biting her lip.

"Gven! You are… I don't know vat is the vord."

"Scandalous?"

"No."

"Wanton?"

"Close enough. If you are vanting to give yourself to him, dat is your choice."

"I told him that if I could not be his wife in every way, then I _should_ not be his wife."

"And so you vish to test dis out before you accept the ring back."

"Yes."

"I tink dat you are being very smart, really."

"Thank you. I've been fretting over it all afternoon."

"I did notice dat you vere a little… scattered."

"Gaius said the same thing," she laughs.

"Gven? One ting."

"What's that?"

"You must make it clear dat if you vant or need to stop, no matter vat state you both are in, _he must stop._"

"I will," Gwen answers quietly. "I think he will understand that. No, I know he will."

"He had better, or I vill be coming after him vit Percival's dagger. You are not the only voman who can do damage to the soft parts of a man, you know."

"Frida!" Gwen exclaims, but falls to giggling nevertheless.

There is a tap at the door, followed by, "What's all that laughter in there?"

"Push off, Elyan," Gwen calls, still laughing. She hears him chuckle and walk away.

xXx

Arthur has trouble concentrating the following day, a day that drags on endlessly, just to torment him. A council meeting of which he remembers nothing. Meeting a visiting lord whose name he no longer remembers.

_What did I have for lunch?_

Finally he gives up, and, claiming his knee is giving him trouble in the day's rainy weather, he begs off of afternoon training, leaving Leon in charge.

_I'd probably end up injured and then I'd be no good at all for… anything._

Merlin finds him staring at a book, sitting at his desk.

"Interesting reading, my lord?" Merlin asks, walking over.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes," Arthur says vaguely, turning a page.

"Oh really?" Merlin steps over, lifts the book and turns it right-side-up. "Perhaps this will help."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur says, but he isn't even able to put any real feeling behind it.

"Oh, come now, surely you can do better than that…" Merlin cajoles, waiting. He had of course noticed the king's oddly-distracted mood and has been waiting to find out about it all day.

"What?" Arthur looks up at him. "Merlin, is there a point to your being here?"

"Just making sure you are well, Sire," he says idly.

"Never better."

"Except for your knee, of course."

"What knee?"

"The knee you claimed was troubling you and keeping you from attending training."

"Ah. Yes. That knee. Right."

"Arthur, what is going on? I thought you and Gwen were back on track."

"We are, we are…"

"So…?"

Arthur looks up at him. "It's none of your concern."

"Oh," Merlin says, blinking in surprise, now even more curious. "You're not going to tell me what's troubling you?"

"No. And nothing's troubling me."

"Right. But something is definitely _distracting_ you."

"Merlin, shouldn't you be polishing my armor right now?"

"No, I don't think so…" Merlin says, thinking, ticking off his list of duties for the day.

"Let me rephrase that. _Merlin, shouldn't you be polishing my armor right now?_"

"Ah. Right." He turns to leave, disappointed that he was unable to solve the mystery.

"And Merlin," Arthur calls.

"Yes?"

"I'll be having my dinner here tonight."

"Alone?"

"Yes. Just bring it in and then you may have the rest of the night off."

"Um… thank you?" Merlin is growing even more confused by the minute.

"And… tomorrow morning as well," Arthur adds, sticking his nose firmly back in the book that he is clearly not reading.

"Uhhhhhooookaayyyy…" Merlin answers, and turns to leave again. He reaches for the door and the realization hits him like a stone wall.

He fumbles with the knob and almost falls into the hallway, his ears now bright red.

xXx

Arthur stares at his dinner as if he has never seen chicken before.

_This is ridiculous. I don't get nervous. I am the king of bloody Camelot. A knight. A warrior. The ultimate killing machine. The "once and something whoozits" that Merlin keeps blathering on about._

_ Qualities that will do me no good whatsoever this evening._

He pokes the chicken with his fork. He takes a drink of his wine. He ponders the carrots as if they have secrets to tell him.

He picks up the chunk of cheese. _This is one of Frida's, Merlin had said._ He sets it down and cuts off a small slice.

_Oh gods, this is the best cheese I have ever had._ He cuts another slice, bigger, and eats that as well as his eyes keep drifting to the door, wondering when her quiet knock will come.

If it will come.

_Not that I doubt her, I just still cannot believe this is happening._

Arthur manages a bite of chicken and one roasted carrot before his head turns sharply to the door.

Her knock comes a second later, soft. Tentative. He almost tips his chair over as he stands, walking to open the door for her rather than just bidding her enter.

"Hi," Gwen says nervously. She looks up and sees all the same emotions she's been feeling all day: nervousness, excitement, anxiety, anticipation, all mirrored in his face.

She laughs suddenly then, a light, musical laugh that throws Arthur completely off balance. Again.

He steps aside and she enters, saying, "I'm sorry to laugh, Arthur, it's just… I guess I am relieved to see that you are feeling the same way I am."

Then Gwen turns and smiles at him. Actually smiles. Arthur is paralyzed, having nearly forgotten how beautiful her smile was.

"I had to pretend my knee was bothering me to get out of attending training. I was afraid I would end up injured, I was so distracted," he admits.

"I almost crushed some dried chamomile into nothingness until Gaius reminded me of my task. And that was yesterday," she replies, watching as he finally moves, sliding the lock into place on his door.

Her smile fades with the click of the lock and is replaced by the nervousness again.

"We do not have to do this, Guinevere," Arthur says quietly, taking her hands in his. "I understand if you've changed your mind."

"No, Arthur, I do need to do this," she says, squeezing his hands, taking comfort in their warmth.

"The fact that you even want to is enough for me," he says, his voice still gentle.

"It isn't enough for me," she whispers.

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?" he asks, looking down into her eyes, serious now.

"Arthur," she says, dropping one hand to lead him by the other over to the bench by the fireplace where they sat two nights ago. "How much do you know about birds?" she asks.

"What?"

"What do you know about birds? Apart from how they taste. And knowing how to kill a chicken at a thousand paces, of course."

Arthur laughs at her remark, remembering that night where he _almost_ kissed her for the first time. "Not a lot. Why?"

"When the baby birds have grown all their feathers in, it is time for them to learn to fly. They have the instinct to fly. They _want_ to fly. But they can't until the mother bird pushes them out of the nest."

"Ah," Arthur says, understanding now.

"_Wanting_ it isn't enough. They need that _push_ to know that they can do it."

"And are you the baby bird or the mother bird?" he asks, scooting a little closer to her, stroking her cheek with his finger.

"Both, actually, which makes it a little complicated," she says, closing her eyes, his gentle touch warming her.

"And what am I, then?" he asks, leaning close now, kissing her other cheek.

"You? You are the sky…" she says, her voice a whisper.

Arthur looks at her with wonder in his eyes. "I can live with that," he says, smiling at her. He leans in and kisses her lips once, briefly, softly.

"Guinevere…" he says, but before he can continue, he has to kiss her one more time. "Guinevere," he starts again, "if… if you need to stop, if you _want_ to stop at any time, _any_ time at all," he kisses her once more, "just say the word and I will do so immediately."

Gwen's heart melts. _I didn't even have to ask him,_ she thinks, and she feels tears, happy tears, pricking at her eyes now.

"Thank you," she says, cupping his cheek in her hand.

"I am your servant," he tells her, turning his head to kiss her palm.

The simple kiss on such an unexpected place, an unexpectedly sensitive place, sends a jolt through her, and she gasps just slightly.

She slides her hand around, threading her fingers into his hair as she leans forward, claiming his lips with hers, gently at first, but when his arms snake around her waist and pull her closer, her hand tightens on his head slightly and she presses firmer.

Moments later her lips are parting under his, closing around his lower lip, sucking the pliant flesh there for a moment, coaxing him deeper. Her tongue tentatively touches his lip now, and his restraint shakes. He opens his mouth for her, kissing her fully now, relishing the feel of her under his hands, against his lips, in his mouth.

_She feels like heaven. Tastes like heaven. Clearly I must be dead._

Gwen's hand rakes lightly through his hair, her fingertips making his scalp tingle. Her other hand bunches his shirt in her fist before opening and splaying wide against the muscles of his chest.

He tries to pull her closer still, longing to feel her body against his, but the bench they are on proves uncooperative.

"Guinevere," he gasps against her lips.

"Arthur," she answers, pulling back slightly, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes. She sees the desire pooled in his and knows that hers are surely the same. She stands, taking his hand again, leading him over to the bed.

_I can do this. Don't think about anything else. Just him. Just be here, now, with him._

Halfway there, he stops. "Wait a moment. Something's not right here," he says.

She puzzles over this until she finds herself lifted in his arms, and then she understands what he meant.

Boldly, she turns her head the small distance and kisses his neck, just once.

Arthur almost drops her. He hopes she doesn't notice.

But she kisses him again, the same way, only a lingering slightly longer, and he knows that she did notice.

He chuckles then, unable to help himself, and he is rewarded with her sweet giggle as he sets her gently on the bed.

"Um…" he starts, suddenly unsure about how to proceed. He sits beside her on the bed, realizing that Merlin must have turned the sheets down when he dropped off dinner, because they are neatly folded back already.

"Oh," he finally makes a decision, bending over to remove his boots.

She smiles at him, at his endearing awkwardness, his uncertainty over trying to be mindful of her needs. "I love you, Arthur," she says suddenly, reaching for his hand.

"And I love you," he answers, allowing himself to be pulled down onto the bed beside her. He looks at her, still hardly believing that she is here, on his bed, with him. He lifts their joined hands to his lips, kissing her fingers, her hands, the knob on her one knuckle.

"Hey, no shoes on the bed," he teases gently, scooting down to gently remove the slippers covering her feet while she giggles at him again. He tosses them to the floor and pauses a moment, saying, "Well, that's just not even fair," he says.

"What?" she asks, curious. _What on earth is he talking about now?_

"Even your little feet are lovely. How is that possible that every bit of you is beautiful?"

"Arthur, really," she protests, stopping just short of saying _you haven't seen every bit of me yet._

"Yes, really, Guinevere," he says, sliding back up to lie beside her now, hesitantly placing his hand on her stomach.

"You are all right?" Arthur asks, serious now again.

She nods, reaching up to pull his face down to hers, craving his lips again. She kisses him hungrily now, lips immediately parted, tongues thrusting and sweeping.

His hand slides on her stomach, gripping her waist. Her hand moves, pulling at his shirt, her other hand coming up to help, removing his belt first.

It is only when Arthur hears the _clunk_ as the buckle hits the floor that he realizes what she's done.

"Oh…" he groans, tearing his lips from hers for just a moment before returning, pressing her into the pillows.

She makes a very small sound in the back of her throat and he immediately eases up.

"Sor—"

Gwen cuts off his apology with her lips, kissing him still. "It's all right," she whispers against his lips, sliding her arms under his, around his back, holding him, easing him closer.

He feels her pulling at his shirt again, and he leans back. "Off?" he asks.

"Yes," she nods, and he quickly disposes of his shirt, wadding it into a ball and throwing it back over his shoulder.

"Someone has to clean that, you know," she gently chides him.

"Sorry," he answers sheepishly.

Gwen reaches up with one hand, placing it flat against his chest. He takes it and moves it over his heart.

She can feel his heart thumping against her palm, the warmth of his skin, the light covering of chest hair.

"When you were gone, it was like this was missing from me," he whispers, pressing her hand.

"I know. I felt exactly the same way," she says, wiggling her fingers slightly beneath his hand. He leans down and kisses her and she actually feels his heartbeat speed up.

She feels his hand drop from hers, but she leaves her hand on his chest anyway, only now she moves it, acquainting herself with the feel of his chest.

_I have touched his chest before, but only tending to wounds. This is very different._

Gwen is starting to become conflicted, but carries on kissing him nevertheless.

_I want to go further. I want to take his hand and guide it to the laces of my bodice. This dress suddenly feels too tight, too unnecessary, and yet I cannot find the will to…_

"Guinevere?" Arthur asks, looking down at her. "What's wrong, Love? Please tell me." He strokes her brow, brushing a few curls away from her face.

"I'm a little… scared."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No. Maybe. No. I know what I need to do next, but it is difficult for me."

"Your dress?" he guesses, and she nods.

Arthur has no idea what exactly it was that happened that night in Helios' chambers, nor does he want to think about it. _But if I were a betting man, I'd wager he made her remove her garments for him while he watched._ He kisses her forehead. "Is there anything I can do?" he asks.

"Blow out the candles?" she suggests. _Perhaps in the dark, I will not feel so exposed._

"Your wish," he says, kissing her forehead once more before hopping from the bed to scurry around and extinguish the candles.

"All?"

"Leave one," she tells him, sitting up now.

"Thank you," he says, deciding to leave the one bedside candle lit. _So I won't have to get up later to put it out._ As he crosses the floor to return to her, there is a flash of lightning followed a moment later by the crack of thunder.

Gwen jumps slightly, startled, and Arthur smiles. "I guess the weather finally decided to let loose," he says, sitting behind her on the bed now, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her gently back against his chest.

"Does the storm frighten you?" he asks quietly, nuzzling her temple with his nose.

"No, the lightning just surprised me," she says, melting against him, the heat from his chest radiating into her back. "I wasn't expecting it."

"Oh," he answers, sounding a little disappointed. "And here I was hoping that I could be your big brave hero, protecting you from the storm."

She chuckles softly. "Arthur, you are already my hero," she says, turning her face to kiss him.

"No, Guinevere, you are mine," Arthur tells her before returning his lips to hers.

_I'm his hero?_ Gwen vaguely thinks, pondering those words just a moment before becoming totally distracted when his lips leave hers and press softly against the side of her neck. She gasps at the sensation, and he misunderstands.

"Sorry," he says, returning to her lips.

"No," she pulls back, "That was a good sound. Keep doing it."

"Oh," he smiles, moving his head back, "so you like this?" he asks, brushing his lips lightly against the apparently very sensitive skin of her neck.

"Yes," she breathes, her head tilting to the side unconsciously to give him more access. Her one hand comes up to his face, reaching back, caressing his cheek before finding its way into his hair again.

Arthur smiles against her skin as he places soft wet kisses along the column of her neck, pleased that she found something that pleases her.

One of his arms around her waist moves, cautiously roving higher. His knuckles brush the underside of her breast, applying soft pressure there, asking permission.

"Can I…" he asks, moving his fingers slightly against her.

"Yes," she breathes, momentarily lost in the warm cocoon he has built around her. When his hand moves higher and closes gently around the soft mound of her breast, she gasps again, stiffening just momentarily before relaxing with a sigh.

Another flash of lightning lights up the room, another rumble of thunder, long and loud and low. Gwen doesn't jump this time.

"Guinevere," he whispers in her ear, his voice a caress before he kisses its outer shell. His hand gives a tentative squeeze, not hard, and she makes a small noise.

"Is that a good sound?" he rumbles low, still hovering near her ear.

"Mmm-hmm," she answers, her eyes closed again. _His touch is so different. Better. Loving. He wants_ me, _not just my body,_ she realizes. _Me._ Her eyes open wide now and she sits up suddenly, catching Arthur totally by surprise.

"Are you all right?" he asks, immediately worried.

"Yes," she says, blinking in the surprise of her realization. "I just… your touch… it… I…"

"Yes?" he asks patiently, watching her struggle to organize her thoughts. He strokes her jaw with his index finger, turning her face to look at him.

"It's… _different._ Than his," she finally blurts.

"Of course it is. I'm me. I'm not him," he says simply, but he thinks he knows what she means. _She was expecting the touch of any man to feel like his._

"You love me," she says, turning her body slightly so she can look directly at him.

"Yes, I do. More than life."

"I… can feel that. When you touch me."

"Good," he smiles. "That's how it _should_ be, Guinevere. Loving. Beautiful."

"I know… well, I _used_ to know, until I shut it away and made myself forget."

"I'm glad you remembered," he says, and, hoping he isn't pushing too far, too fast, he leans forward and drops a kiss on the soft skin of her breast peeking at him above her bodice, very near to her heart.

Her hand drifts upward and rests on the back of his head, lightly. He kisses again and she closes her eyes, waiting for the painful images to come rushing back, the images that have been the subject of her nightmares since she returned to Camelot.

None come.

_Did I push them away? Did I get rid of them? Or did he kiss them away; did his love expel them from my mind? Or is it all these things?_

"Arthur," she breathes his name, and he kisses again, his lips lingering on her skin slightly longer. He moves his lips a little higher, sucking lightly at the skin covering her collarbone, and his hand comes around her waist, sliding up along the row of laces at her back.

She realizes he is not kissing her anymore and she opens her eyes to find him just watching her, patiently but expectantly.

"May I?" he asks softly, and she feels the touch of his fingers at her laces, poised but not moving until she gives the word.

She takes a deep breath. "Yes." Then, "Let me know if you need help."

He laughs. "I might do, we'll see."

She turns, presenting her back to him, moving her hair out of the way. _He won't want to inspect me like livestock. He won't,_ she reminds herself, but still she is unsure if she can let him look at her naked body yet.

She feels the laces loosen gradually, slower than if she were doing it but he is making progress.

"I think I've got it," he says, reaching his hand up to touch the skin on her back, running his palm along the patch of skin between her shoulder blades, a place usually hidden by her hair.

"Okay," she says. "Um…"

"Guinevere," he says, his voice still low and soft, "if you wish to leave your shift on, if you are not comfortable…"

"Maybe. I… I don't know yet."

Arthur leans forward and kisses that spot on her back. "Whatever you wish, my love."

Determined, bolstered once again by his patience, patience she frankly didn't think he possessed, she pulls her arms from the sleeves of her dress and frees her upper half. Her back still to him, she scoots the dress beneath her, lifting her bottom to ease it out from under her and down off of her legs. She reaches her arm out and carefully tosses it onto a nearby chair.

Arthur watches, amazed as it lands neatly, as if it knows she will be cross should it wrinkle. He smiles, then turns his attention back to her, sitting in front of him now in just a thin linen chemise, her creamy brown shoulders just a short distance from his lips.

He leans forward and kisses one, unable to help himself. "You are beautiful, Guinevere," he whispers, his breath blowing warm on her skin.

"You're looking at my back, Arthur," she says, strangely amused at him.

"Well, your back is beautiful. As I said: Every bit of you."

"I think you may be biased," she says, looking over her shoulder at him now.

"Probably," he smiles. "But I am the king, you know. My word is law."

"I thought you said you were my servant."

"Did I?" he mock-pouts, trying to find a way out now. "Yes," he allows, deciding to give in, because, as always, she is correct. "In here, in this room, I am your servant always." Then he kisses her shoulder again.

Arthur brings his leg around so he is no longer sitting behind her but beside her, his eyes dancing quickly over her petite body, wanting to see her but not wanting to make her uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

The thin white material disguises very little, and he has to shift his position slightly to make himself more comfortable.

"Is… something wrong?" Gwen asks, noticing his discomfort.

"Um, no. Not at all. It's just I… um, needed to adjust some things…"

"Oh," she says. Then, "_Oh,_" and she blushes, her skin taking on a lovely pink hue that makes her even more beautiful somehow.

He leans over and kisses her, capturing her lips with his, gently easing her back on the pillows again.

"Nothing to be embarrassed by," he whispers between kisses, "you should be proud that you cause these feelings in me, these reactions in my body," he kisses her nose.

"I didn't think it was proper…" she starts.

"Guinevere, there is no place for propriety in the bedchamber," he says gently, but there is an impish quality to his tone and she cannot help but smile.

"There you go. Surely you know," he kisses her again, his hand sliding on her stomach, quietly feeling the contours of her body through her shift, "that this should also be enjoyable, yes? For _both,_ I mean."

She nods silently, but her wide eyes tell him that she hadn't really considered that part of it.

He grins at her and then returns his lips to her neck, needing the taste of her skin on his lips again.

She relaxes a little again, her hands on his shoulders, his chest, shyly exploring. He slips his tongue out against her skin and she sighs. He actually licks the hollow of her throat and she takes his hand and brings it back to her breast.

Arthur loses a little bit of his mind then, he is able to feel _so much_ through the linen. The shape of her breast, how it fits perfectly into his hand, how it is firm and yet soft at the same time, how her nipple puckers and stiffens when he moves his palm over it.

"Oh," she gasps, gripping his shoulders when he daringly rubs his thumb over the stiff tip.

"Guinevere," he groans softly, his lips moving lower again, shifting his hips slightly so she can feel him against her thigh. "That's what you do to me," he coos against her skin, trying to allay any fears. "That is what my love for you does to my body. What your love for me does."

Surprising herself, her hand drops from his shoulder, her fingers trailing down his stomach, then stopping when she realizes where she is heading.

"You can touch," he mutters against her breasts, "please do," he adds.

Gwen gathers her resolve and moves her hand lower till her fingers brush something firm and cylindrical. She presses her palm against it, lightly at first, then as her boldness and curiosity grow, she presses harder, learning the feel of him through his trousers. He grunts and almost collapses over her, weakened by her hand on him.

"They will need to come off," he says finally, lifting his head to look at her. "The trousers, I mean."

"I know," she whispers. Then, surprising herself again, she moves her hand and pulls the ties on his trousers in one swift move.

"Oh!" he exclaims, pleasantly surprised at how easy that was. He shucks his trousers, again tossing them carelessly aside. As soon as they are out of his hand, though, he remembers, and mutters, "Sorry."

She just smiles at him, keeping her eyes stubbornly pointed above his waist.

_Don't look,_ she finds herself thinking.

He kisses her again before saying, "You can look."

"I…" she hedges.

"Guinevere," he says, his voice suddenly taking on a light teasing tone, "it's not like you haven't seen…"

"Oh!" she exclaims now, blushing furiously, remembering that awkward afternoon when she had to knock out Merlin to save Arthur and wound up encountering him on the way to his bath.

"Don't tell me you didn't peek," he teases further, in her ear. "Hell, if Gaius wasn't there with you…"

"Arthur, you're not helping," she says, but she is laughing now. Actually laughing.

"Yes, I rather think I am," he says. "Because you are laughing. And it's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard." He claims her lips again, leaning over her.

Gwen's hand creeps forward and finds him, bare now, and she realizes that she _does_ want to touch, she _does_ want to see.

He groans when her hand finds his naked shaft, and deepens the kiss reflexively, his hand finding her breast once again, more daring now, teasing the nipple more, kneading the soft flesh.

She moans into him, squeezing her hand around him in response.

"Yes," he breaks away to gasp his praise. She takes her opportunity to look down at his body now, his chest that she has seen several times yet it never ceases to quicken her pulse. His long muscular arms and graceful hands that seem to have no other purpose tonight but to pleasure her and hold her. Gwen bites her lip and forces her eyes further south, at her hand wrapped around him. She releases her hold and runs her fingers along its length, making his body jerk. _It's strange, yet beautiful, in its way._

"Sorry," she says.

"Don't be," he smiles. "It's good. You have no idea what your touch does to me," he whispers.

"If it's anything like what yours does to me, then I have a pretty good idea," she whispers back, looking down now at his long legs, every bit as muscular and perfect as the rest of him.

"You have nice legs, Arthur," she says, and he chuckles, kissing her again.

"I… I think we can take my shift off," she says, so quietly that he almost doesn't hear it.

"Are you certain?" he asks, his hand sliding down her body, fingers already pulling up the hem of the undergarment, exposing her legs now.

"I hope so," she says, kissing him again. "This sounds silly, but it… doesn't seem fair if I am clothed and you are not," she admits.

He chuckles again at her sweetness, and reaches over with his other hand as well now, raising the skirt.

"You have nice legs, too, Guinevere," he observes, then bends to kiss one knee, then the other. "Very."

_He's kissing my knees?_ she wonders.

Arthur runs his hands up her legs, slowly caressing, marveling at the softness of her skin. He pauses, his hands on her thighs. "Should I proceed?" he asks.

She nods, closing her eyes, though, as he gently pushes the shift higher, over her hips, whispering, "Lift up for me, please." She blindly complies, lifting her bum so the shift can slide upward and in another moment her arms are raising and she is completely bare before him.

Through her closed lids she can tell there is another lightning strike, followed closely by the thunder, louder this time. She can even hear the rain battering the windows now.

"Guinevere," Arthur's voice. His hand, stroking her face. His lips, kissing her eyelids. "Do not hide, Love. Open your eyes."

She opens them and is met with Arthur's face, the love in his eyes tangible as he very consciously watches only her face, his hand resting now on her hipbone.

"Sorry," she says, feeling bad that she once again let Helios' memory invade her, the memory of his lust-filled eyes studying her like he was a starving man and she was his next meal.

"Guinevere, stop apologizing," he says, his eyes twinkling slightly at her.

"Sor—" she stops herself this time, and he kisses her.

"You are perfect, do you know that?" he says, resting his forehead against hers. "Just as beautiful outside as you are inside."

"Thank you," she says, seeing that light in his eyes that she knows no one else gets to see, remembering again that he wants her to be happy, to enjoy herself. Because he loves her.

"I love you," he whispers, almost as if he has read her mind, and kisses her once before going exploring. He trails down her neck, even nibbling some now as he goes. He finds the sensitive place where her neck meets her shoulder, just above her collarbone, and sucks at it briefly.

When she makes a small mewling noise he does it again, longer, but taking care not to leave a mark. _Will have to remember that spot,_ he thinks, but he moves on anyway, towards his next target.

His lips close over her breast now, taking the taut nipple in his mouth gently, slipping his tongue around it.

"Arthur," she gasps, and is suddenly aware of the heat that has been steadily accumulating between her legs. It had been building all this while, but she had been too busy worrying and concentrating on Arthur, trying to keep her mind peaceful, that she didn't take notice that her body was responding to him all on its own.

Arthur suckles at her breast, flicking her nipple with his tongue, gently nibbling. Gwen slowly removes her hand from his head and moves it down between her legs, investigating, hoping that Arthur is too busy to notice.

_I'm certainly having enough trouble concentrating,_ she thinks as she probes with one finger to find her womanhood hot, sensitive, and thoroughly wet.

She gasps then, just as Arthur's lips move to her other breast, giving it equal treatment. His hand caresses her stomach, hesitantly, and Guinevere thinks she knows what he wants to do.

_Touch me. Please._ Gwen's own thoughts surprise her now, so lost is she getting in him, in the experience.

"Guinevere, can…?"

"Stop asking, Arthur," she cuts him off, her voice a slightly strained whisper.

_Okay, then,_ Arthur thinks, but still he vows to go slow, to not overwhelm her.

His hand moves lower until he feels the coarse curls at the juncture of her thighs, moist already, so much so that he pauses again.

"Oh…" she moans, her hand holding his head, still at her breast. He places his hand against her now, just applying gentle pressure so she can grow accustomed to his touch.

"Mmm…"

Arthur slides one finger between her folds then, and the wetness pooled there almost causes him to lose control and spill his seed onto the bed and her hip.

"Guinevere…" he says, surprised and delighted.

"More," she whispers, reaching for him again now, gripping him lightly and sliding her hand, guided mainly by instinct now, as she is nearly mindless, finally surrendering fully to her long-denied desires.

"M- more?" he stutters, not sure he's heard her correctly.

"Yes," she urges, tightening her grip on him.

"As you wish, my lady," he chokes out, moving his finger along her cleft. He finds _that_ spot and she cries out, squeezing him reflexively, bringing another grunt from him.

Arthur moves his finger again, making a slow transit back and forth. He moves his head back to hers to kiss her lips while he slides his finger down, inside her.

"Oh," she rips her lips from his now, tossing her head and gripping his shoulder just as another flash of lightning streaks across the sky outside, and Arthur is treated to a split-second view of his Guinevere, eyes closed and lips parted, lost to her desire, lit by lightning.

It is an image that will stay with him always, burned into his memory.

He kisses her yet again and asks, "Are you ready?"

"Please," she says, even tugging on him a little, like she is trying to pull him to her.

He is about to position himself over her, when he has a better idea. _I want her to have the power. She needs to feel in control._ So he wraps his arms around her and rolls onto his back, positioning her over him.

"Arthur! What are you…?"

"You are in control, my love," he tells her, lifting his head to kiss her nose.

"But—"

"Shh," he says, reaching down and placing the tip of his manhood against her opening. He kisses her again. "Whenever you are ready," he whispers, gritting his teeth against his most base need to raise his hips and slide into her warmth.

Gwen closes her eyes a moment. Then she opens them, and, staring directly into his, she lowers her hips, taking him slowly inside, deeper, until he is completely sheathed within her.

He groans low and long. She sighs. Neither of them move.

_It does not feel like an invasion. It feels… good. So good. Like he belongs here._

Still watching his face, she lifts her hips again, then lowers them. He moves his hands to her hips, helping her move, moving his own hips with her, until they slowly find their rhythm.

Slipping in and out, kissing, nibbling, touching. Half-whispered words. Eyes closed, eyes open. Arthur's hand moves and finds a breast, and he lifts his head to kiss it, suck on it. Gwen's hand comes around to support his head for him, holding it while she balances her weight on her other arm, hovering over him.

"Oh… Arthur…" she gasps, and he increases the tempo.

"Oh!" her reply, a joyful exclamation.

_I am flying._

Arthur drops his head back and she leans down and kisses his neck, his jaw, making her way to his lips, which she descends upon, kissing him ardently, letting her feelings loose into him.

_Oh… oh my,_ Gwen thinks as sensations start to flood her, starting at the spot where they are joined and spreading, hot and fast like the ever-increasing lightning outside, burning her to ash and making her whole all at once, building, building until it bursts forth from her like a ball of fire, and she cries out his name.

"Arthur! Oh…"

Gwen holds on, continuing the ride because she knows he has not yet reached completion, but her head is positively swimming and she can no longer tell if the flashes of light are being caused by the storm outside or the one that just let loose from her heart.

Moments later, Arthur's arms wrap around her body tightly, he stills after one massive thrust, and he groans, loud and low, a garbled mess that sounds vaguely like her name.

She relaxes over him now, his arms still securely around her, like he's afraid she'll disappear now like she always does in his dreams.

Her head on his chest, she turns her face and kisses his Adam's apple.

"Did you fly?" A whispered question.

"Yes. And the sky was wonderful," she answers, and blissful tears slip from her eyes and wet his chest.

xXx

"That," Gwen says quietly, once her tears have abated, "was truly pleasurable company." She mutters it low, almost to herself.

"What?" Arthur asks, rolling them so she is cuddled next to him, her head on his shoulder. He lifts his head and looks down at her, confused. Then he reaches up and wipes the tears from her cheeks.

"When Helios would summon us, he would send that slimy bastard Silas to our rooms, where he would knock and declare, 'My lord Helios requests the pleasure of your company.'"

"Ugh," Arthur says, making a face. "That's… kind of creepy."

"Yes. Not to mention that it wasn't exactly a _request._ We would hear it every night, and every night it would make my blood run cold. At first from not knowing the reason, then from suspecting the reason, then from being sure of the reason and dreading the day when he came calling for me."

Arthur holds her close, kissing her hair, stroking her cheek. "I'm so sorry you had do live that way. Even if it was just for a few weeks. It just sickens me."

"The days were mostly tolerable. It was the nights that troubled me."

"Understandably so. And the way I see it, there are two things intrinsically wrong with his statement, anyway."

"What's that?"

"First: yeesh," he shudders, and she actually giggles at him. "And second," he tilts her chin up, leans down and kisses her, "he was the only one getting any kind of pleasure," he says softly, his voice a caress against her skin.

His words make her skin tingle all over, and she squeezes him, wrapping her hand around his chest. "It is behind me now. I am looking forward now."

"My wise Guinevere," he says, tilting her face to his again for another kiss, this one longer, deeper.

She surrenders to his kiss now, letting him take the lead, now that she knows that her heart and her body are safe in his hands. She moans low in the back of her throat before she can help herself, his tongue sending rivulets of fire down her spine as it strokes hers.

"Do you see, Guinevere," he mutters, pulling just far enough away to speak, "in my bed – in _our_ bed," he amends, "you will only ever feel pleasure."

He pulls away a little further, gazing at her. "I need you to know this. Do you believe me?" he asks, his face now showing signs of worry creeping back in.

"Yes," she whispers, reaching up to stroke his cheek, his jaw with her fingertips. "Thank you, Arthur."

"And you already know I love you more than reason dictates, but I'm going to keep telling you anyway," he says, his face relaxing, a smile creeping across his face now before he drops another kiss on her lips, accompanied by a whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, and I love hearing it," she replies softly, kissing him once before settling back against his broad chest.

There is a distant rumble of thunder; the storm is passing.

"Arthur?" she asks quietly.

"Yes, Love?"

"Will you marry me?"

Without a word, Arthur practically leaps from the bed, scrambling over to the bedside table, ripping the drawer out so fast that it nearly separates from the table, and grabbing the ring.

"Is that a yes?" she giggles, echoing his question from what seems a lifetime ago.

He scoots back in close to her, and she sits up now, holding the sheet around herself. She watches as he undoes the knot around the ring, pulling with his fingernails until it is loose, then allowing the ring to fall into his palm.

He pauses a second. "If… if you'd like a new one…" he stammers, suddenly very aware of the fact that this ring might hold negative thoughts. _"Looking forward now," she had said._

"Don't you dare," she says. "_That_ ring has memories. Some good, some bad, but those memories make us who we are today. I am trying to put the past behind me, yes, but we cannot deny its existence. We must remember the past for the sake of the future." She holds her hand out for him now, almost stubbornly. "_That_ ring kept me sane, kept me from dying of fright, of loneliness. It was the only connection I had to you during my banishment and if you take it away, I'll…"

"Okay, okay, we keep the ring," he smiles, taking her hand in his and sliding the ring back on her finger. "Where it belongs," he says, speaking his thought out loud.

She practically leaps into his arms now, kissing him frantically, almost knocking him over.

"Wow," he says, freeing his lips for a moment before she starts plundering them again.

"Got carried away I guess," she giggles.

"No problem at all," he says, smiling at her and laying them back down.

"It does feel better having it back on. My finger would itch without it. Like even my stupid finger knew something that I didn't," she chuckles.

He squeezes her, loving how she feels against him, how she fits against him.

"Will you stay with me? All night? Here?"

She doesn't answer right away.

"Please? I want to hold you all night, to have you here in my arms while I sleep. While we sleep."

"What about Merlin?" she asks.

"I told him to take tomorrow morning off," he says.

"Oh. Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Did he notice your odd behavior today?"

"Yes."

"And you gave him tonight off as well."

"Obviously."

She sighs. "He's going to know anyway."

"If he has figured it out, he will be overjoyed, I am certain," he answers. "So you'll stay then?"

"There is nothing I want more than to sleep curled in your embrace, my lord," she says, using his title as a term of endearment.

"Then that is what you shall have, my lady. As soon as I blow out this candle," he adds, rolling away for just a moment before returning to her, pulling the blankets up and snuggling in with her, tight in his arms.

"I love you so much, Guinevere."

"I love you too, Arthur. And thank you."

He bends his head down, smelling her hair. He smiles as he feels her tuck her little feet between his calves, noting that she must have done so because they feel like ice. But he doesn't mind, because he feels like his entire body is on fire.

"Your bed is really comfortable," she says, her voice sleepy.

"Of course it is. I'm the king."

She laughs, a small sleepy laugh, then sighs and her small body seems to melt against him as she drifts off to sleep.

For the first time in weeks, Guinevere has happy dreams.


	7. Anticipation

Gwen slowly wakes, shifting in her sleep, finding, not surprisingly, that she is still in the circle of Arthur's arms. He had apparently allowed her to turn in her sleep at least once, as her back is now to him and he is spooned up tightly behind her.

She blinks her eyes open and surveys the room and her mind. _Regrets? None. Shame? None at all._ The faint pinkish glow tells her that it is very early morning and the sun has just woken as well.

Closing her eyes, she realizes she hasn't been this happy in a long time. She looks at her hand, at her precious ring returned to his rightful place, and smiles. Then she looks down to see Arthur's hand resting quite comfortably between her breasts, and she starts to giggle.

"Hey, I'm sleeping back here," a sleepy voice drawls behind her. "Knock off all that giggling."

"Are you comfortable, Arthur?" she asks quietly.

"Quite."

"Perhaps I should ask it this way: is your _hand_ comfortable, Arthur?"

He flexes the impertinent hand, then squeezes gently. "Immensely." He snuggles her closer, if that is even possible, tucking his nose into her hair as she giggles some more.

"Too early, Love," he complains.

"I have always been an early riser," she says, squirming just a little in his tight grip. "Can you loosen your arms a little, please?"

"If I let go you'll disappear. That's what always happens in these dreams," he says into her neck.

She smiles at his confession, at the knowledge that he dreams of her. She wiggles again and reaches for his hand, lifting it from her breasts to kiss his fingers. "You're not dreaming, Arthur," she says, releasing his hand, which he immediately returns to its former location.

"I had better not be, because this is the best one ever, and _would you stop squirming, I am going to lose my mind,_" he says as she shifts her bottom against him again.

Her giggles are cut off abruptly when she feels him press his hips forward against her, pushing his erection against her backside.

"Arthur!" she exclaims.

He moves now, just slightly, bringing his face closer to hers, nudging her hair out his way with his nose, blowing puffs of air at it when it won't cooperate. "He's just saying good morning," he purrs in her ear. "He likes you."

"He?" she asks, amused.

Arthur presses against her again. "Kind of has a mind of his own. Seems wrong to refer to him as an 'it,'" he explains casually, kissing her neck now.

She sighs and turns in his arms to face him again and immediately his lips are on hers. He kisses her soundly and her whole body tingles as it reawakens under his ardor, hot moisture pooling in her center already.

"Did you sleep well?" he whispers, kissing her forehead now, the small horizontal scar high in the center.

"Yes. Better than I have in ages, it seems," she answers, closing her eyes as he kisses her eyelids, brushes his lips carefully along her long dark eyelashes.

"Good," he answers, still whispering, kissing her nose, her cheeks. She opens her eyes and gazes into his. "You have beautiful eyes, Guinevere, have I told you that?"

"Not specifically, but I had assumed they were included in the 'every bit of me' to which you referred last night," she smiles at him.

He laughs. "Yes, well, perhaps it is time for specifics," he says, smoothing her curls away from her face to kiss her cheek again and then her lips. "Your lips are simply amazing," he mutters, taking the lower one gently into his mouth and sucking on it lightly.

Arthur moves to one of her ears, gently nibbling the lobe before trailing tiny kisses along the edge. "Your little edible ears," he says before sticking his nose into her hair again. "Your scent, especially in your wonderful dark curls." He actually lifts a curl to his lips and kisses it before dropping it against her neck. His lips follow it there, immediately finding the spot he noted the night before, drawing a gasp from her.

"Your skin is as sweet as honey," he murmurs as he runs his lips over her skin, tongue just barely touching.

She sighs at the feel of his lips on her neck, no longer ghosting, but kissing fully, soft, moist kisses leaving her skin feeling hot and over-sensitized. He moves to her shoulder, which he bites gently.

"I like all these new parts of you I've never gotten to see before," he says, resting his chin on her shoulder. "And not just… _those_ parts," he grins at her now and she blushes furiously, pulling the sheet tighter around her chest, trying not to break into giggles again.

"These gorgeous shoulders," he kisses her shoulder again, "your back," he ducks his head down and places several kisses between her shoulder blades, "your legs, your feet with their adorable toes…" his voice trails off as his lips trail down her arm, kissing a path down to her hand.

_His sweetness is almost too much to bear,_ she thinks as she watches him cover her with kisses.

Arthur has reached her hand, holding it in both of his. She turns so that she is laying on her back now.

"My hands are rough and calloused," she says, frowning now, sitting up. "They are hardly the hands of a queen."

The shock on his face tells her that he disagrees. "These are exactly the hands of a queen," he says, kissing the inside of her wrist before reaching for the other hand.

"Yes, these hands have scrubbed floors. Washed dishes. Laundered sheets. Perhaps even plucked a few chickens," he says, lifting them to his lips, kissing each finger in turn while he talks.

"But they've also tended the sick, treated wounds, somewhat inexpertly wielded a sword standing up for what is right and just—ow!" she flicks his nose for the "somewhat inexpertly" remark. Arthur recovers quickly, though, drawing her finger into his mouth now, sliding his tongue along the sensitive pads of her finger, making her gasp.

He releases her finger and continues, smiling at her again. "And these hands have brought me comfort from their touch alone countless times," he finishes, kissing her palms, one after the other. "I cannot think of a better pair of hands to belong to any queen."

Gwen is crying now, incredibly touched by his words. He looks up at her face, smiling but with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"No tears now, my love," he says softly, reaching up to wipe them away.

"These are happy ones," she whispers, caressing his cheek, slightly scratchy now with morning stubble.

"I know," he smiles.

"And," she sniffs, composing herself, "you forgot that these hands," she puts them on either side of his face, "are much better than yours at starting a fire."

He laughs now, delighted that she is teasing him. He can't even tease back he is so happy, so instead he kisses her, pushing her back onto the pillows again, intent on finishing the task he started.

Kissing as much of her as he possibly can.

"I love you so much, Arthur," she says once he leaves her lips again to move down her neck. He slides the sheets down so that he can lavish kisses on her breasts, her stomach.

"I love you so much, too," he mutters against the softness of her breasts, kissing one, then over to the other, sliding his tongue around each nipple in turn, teasing them firm and taut. "And these," he moves his hand to softly cup the breast that is mouth is not attending, "are perfect. Just perfect," he declares, biting the nipple now just hard enough that she whimpers slightly. "Beautiful."

Arthur places a few more kisses on her breasts, reluctant to leave them. _I'll be back,_ he finds himself thinking as he starts dropping kisses on the flat softness of her stomach.

He studies her navel a moment, then kisses it. "Now, this is a charming part I haven't ever seen," he muses, then lowers his head and dips his tongue into said charming part.

"Arthur!" she exclaims, laughing. "That tickles!"

"Oho, in that case…" he says, and does it again, slipping his tongue into the tiny crevice, preening as she squeals again.

"Stop!" she gasps, grabbing his head now.

"All right, stop pulling my hair," he says, chuckling as he moves to kiss just beside her navel, and she releases his head.

Nevertheless, he cannot resist doing it one more time, quickly, before moving on.

"Arthur!" she jumps this time, but then he moves over to her hipbone and she grows very still, unsure where he is headed next.

_Surely he doesn't intend to kiss me_ there, _does he?_ She has heard of such things, but she always wondered if it was something that a man would actually do, or if it is all just rumor.

And Arthur does consider it, briefly, but decides to give it a pass for now. _That might be too much for her,_ he thinks, pressing his lips to her thigh and working his way lower.

He thinks he can sense Gwen relax again. _Wise move, Arthur,_ he thinks, sliding his hand beneath her knee and raising it so it is slightly bent.

"I like your legs," he says simply, sliding his hand on the back of her knee up along the back of her thigh, just brushing against her backside. He feels the firm small muscles, toned and strong but still incredibly feminine. Her years of hard work have rendered her slender and strong, with long lean muscles contrasting her lush feminine curves.

_Perfect,_ he repeats, mentally this time, as he drags his lips down her shin, his hand mirroring them on her calf.

"Still say these are lovely," he comments, holding her feet in his hands now, and she is shocked to see him placing gentle kisses on her toes, as if they truly are as lovely as he says they are.

Her eyes drift closed as she feels him knead the tiny muscles of her feet for a few moments before kissing his way back up her other leg, now climbing over her as he works his way up.

"If you want to flip over, I'll see to that side, too," he says just before capturing her lips with his for a delving kiss.

"I don't think…" she manages between his kisses and her giggles, "…that will be entirely necessary."

"If you're certain," he answers, and she cannot really tell if he is teasing her or not now. _Would he really kiss my backside if I presented it to him?_ she wonders, but somehow she knows what the answer is, and makes a mental note to watch out for just that occurrence. _He can be sneaky._

"Yes, I am certain," she says, "you've quite thoroughly claimed your territory, my lord." She smiles at him and runs her hand down his chest now.

"Is that what you think I was doing?" he asks, hovering over her, his nose just an inch from hers.

She shrugs. "I was teasing, but you have to admit…"

"Guinevere, I am yours just as much as you are mine, Love. Every part of me belongs to you. Even the bits you might not want." He smiles that slightly goofy, slightly lopsided smile at her now and she can do nothing but pull his face back down to hers and close her lips over his.

Gwen feels him lower his hips slightly, nudging her with his shaft. Asking.

"Yes, Arthur," she whispers against his lips, and her hand automatically moves in search of him.

She finds him and he groans as her hand instinctively grasps and slides, and as he lowers his hips further, she widens her legs and the tip of him slides against her folds.

"Oh…" she moans, purposely moving him against her again.

"Oh…" he echoes, more of a grunt, and Gwen realizes that the motion is pleasurable for both of them.

So she does it again, and he groans.

"Guinevere, I can't…" _Can't even finish my sentence._

But she understands, and positions his manhood at her opening. He plunges forward, swiftly but gently, finding his home in her warmth.

Gwen was expecting to be sore after last night, after having done this so recently, but she is pleased to discover she is not, and she sighs a blissful sigh as he finds his rhythm over her. She slides her hands up his chest and around his shoulders, pulling, needing his kisses.

Arthur obliges, lowering himself down to grant her what she wants, kissing her deeply, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth. Gwen finds her legs wanting to curl around him, wanting to pull him closer.

_Will he find me wanton? Will he like it?_ she debates a moment, then all the things he has said come flooding back to her. _No place for propriety in the bedchamber. Only pleasure here._

She hooks one leg around his hip, and he tears his lips away from her to grunt her name, and it comes out as both a curse and a prayer.

She follows it with the other, hooking her feet together loosely behind him and now he curses in earnest, leaning back some and gripping her thighs, adjusting his position now, kneeling as he thrusts into her, gazing down at her small body as it arches unconsciously, her hips meeting him thrust for thrust.

Gwen opens her eyes and sees him watching her, and there is such love and desire in his expression that she feels no embarrassment at her wanton display, no shame at his eyes on her naked body.

_This is exactly how it should be._

Arthur sees her watching him now, and all he can think of is how wonderful she is and how wonderful this moment is.

He slyly releases a thigh with one hand and moves it to stroke that nub between her folds, and she nearly shoots from the bed.

"Oh!" she exclaims, her hands thrown over her head now in absolute abandon.

The feeling of flying overcomes her again, and she realizes that the panted breaths and soft cries are coming from her own throat, but she doesn't care. The air sizzles between them. Her skin feels hot and cold. She feels like she is going to explode.

Then she does, in a shower of invisible sparks and Arthur's name, and her hands clutch the bedclothes, almost ripping them free.

Arthur almost laughs with his joy as he releases into her, flooding forward in a rush, clutching her hips, hoping somewhere in the very back of his brain that he won't leave marks there.

Gwen unwinds her legs from around his waist and he drops carefully down over her, catching himself on his hands so that he can kiss her again before gently disengaging himself and rolling beside her, pulling her with him.

"You really are incredible, do you know that?" he asks her.

"And you are a very naughty man," she deflects his compliment.

"What makes you say that?" he asks, trying to act innocent.

"Well, it's _morning,_ for heaven's sake. The sun is out and everything."

"So?"

"So… we shouldn't be… it's not…" she stammers, realizing that her arguments are ridiculous.

"Not proper?" he asks, that teasing glint back in his eyes again.

"Hush," she says, burying her face in his chest.

"Guinevere, do you remember what I said last night?"

"Yes," she giggles, giving up, tucking her head back into his shoulder. She settles in against him, even throwing her leg over his to make herself more comfortable.

"I could stay right here, like this, with you, forever," Arthur says, brushing her hair back away from her face.

"Me too," she sighs, reaching up to her hair now herself. "Ugh. It is going to take forever to comb this out. Normally I braid it for sleeping so it doesn't tangle."

"Sorry," he chuckles. "Next time, I guess."

She can only chuckle with him at this statement, but then something occurs to her. _He really seemed to know what he was doing…_

"Arthur?" she asks quietly, not looking up at him.

"Yes, love?" He asks, tracing curlicues on her shoulder with his fingertips.

"Um, I don't know how to ask this, and I probably shouldn't even do, but…"

"You can ask me anything you like," he says, intrigued now.

"Well, I don't even know how to phrase it… um…"

"You're wondering how many women I've bedded," he guesses.

She nods, still not looking at him.

"Two," he answers quietly. "Both a very long time ago. Neither noteworthy."

"How long ago?" she whispers. _I do not think I want any further details._

"Before I was named Crowned Prince. Honestly, Guinevere, since I woke up from being bitten by the questing beast, the only woman I have been interested in has been you."

She lifts her head now and looks at him. "You've been, um, interested in me for that long?"

"Yes," he bends his head down and kisses her. "I know you said _something_ to me while I was unconscious, something that helped bring me 'round. Kept me alive. Then when you were so evasive when I asked you about it, all that did was intrigue me. More than I realized at first."

"Oh?"

"I started dreaming about you. Not every night, but on nights where I was happy, content, relatively free from worry, you would visit me in my dreams."

"I would?"

"Yes," he says, kissing her again. "And once I kissed you, well, then you were there almost every night, and some of _those_ dreams were quite interesting, indeed." He skims his hand down her side and squeezes her backside. "They weren't all that way, though, because after that I would dream of you when I was troubled."

"Really? Did I… help you? In your dreams?"

"All the time."

xXx

"So?" Merlin asks once he finally decides it is late enough to make an appearance. He takes the daring initiative to bring lunch to Arthur's chambers. Lunch for two.

"So _what,_ Merlin?" Arthur asks, helping himself to a slice of Frida's cheese immediately.

"So when will the wedding be?" he asks, nodding at the ring on Gwen's finger.

"As soon as possible," Arthur says, reaching for her hand. "This evening, if I have my way."

"Tomorrow, Arthur," Gwen says, placing her hand over his. "Or the day after, if you wish to invite anyone from outside the kingdom."

Arthur scowls. "I'd summon Geoffrey right now and have him perform the ceremony right here if you'd let me," he complains.

"What's the big rush, Arthur?" Merlin asks, deciding wisely not to add _you've already had your wedding night._

"I've waited too long already. I waited too long to ask for Guinevere's hand in the first place. Camelot needs its queen. _I_ need my queen."

"Arthur, you're acting like a petulant little boy," Merlin says, rolling his eyes and walking away.

"Love, you cannot deny your people their royal wedding," Gwen says. "There are so few, you know."

Arthur sighs. "Of course you are correct. So, then, now the question is do we send out a few invitations? I should like to invite Queen Annis, actually."

"Then that is what we shall do," Gwen says, patting his hand and then removing it to reach for her goblet. "And what of Princess Mithian?" she asks carefully.

Merlin almost drops the armload of clothes he has been gathering.

"What… of her?" Arthur asks slowly.

"She should be invited as well, I think. It would be a thoughtful gesture, after what you put her through."

"You… you know about her? About…" Arthur pales, then reddens as his mortification turns to anger. "Merlin!"

"Arthur, it's all right. He did not intend to tell me. And I dragged the details out of him, actually."

"All of them?" He shoots a dagger-filled look at Merlin, who looks properly sheepish.

"Yes. And while I'm not exactly _thrilled_ that you went in search of a wife – political or no – so soon after banishing me, I cannot fault you for attempting to move on with your life," she says, her voice almost a whisper.

"Well, the attempt failed quite spectacularly anyway," he says. "I am only grateful that she accepted my rather paltry apology and consolation prize of some, let's face it, useless lands."

"All the more reason why she should be invited."

"She did say that she wants to meet you," Arthur allows. "She was very curious about you."

"Merlin did mention that," Gwen says, looking over at the still-motionless Merlin. "He won't kill you, don't worry. I won't let him," she tells him, and the servant relaxes.

"Merlin," Arthur says, turning to the other man, "go draft up a couple invitations and send messengers immediately." He waves his hand in the direction of his desk, indicating that Merlin should use it. "And post banns and… oh, just _handle it,_ will you?"

"Yes, Sire," Merlin says, smiling now, happy to have something to do that doesn't involve cleaning something. He drops the bundle of clothes on the trunk at the foot of Arthur's bed and heads for the desk.

A soft knock comes at the door. Timid, almost.

"Come," Arthur calls, and Frida opens the door and steps shyly inside. She has a basket over one arm.

"Frida!" Gwen exclaims happily.

"Gven, you are happy. Dat makes me happy," Frida smiles, then looks at her basket. "I… I bring you fresh clothing. Cannot have you vearing the same ting as yesterday, now."

Gwen smiles at her friend's thoughtfulness. "Thank you," she says, standing.

Much to her surprise, Arthur stands when she stands. Respectfully. As if she were a lady. He lifts her hand to his lips before letting her follow her friend over to his privacy screen.

"Frida," Arthur calls after them.

"Yes, my lord?"

"This cheese? Best I've ever had."

"Tank you, Artur," she says, remembering that she is allowed to address him by name. She beams brightly as she ushers Gwen behind the screen to help her change.

Arthur finishes his breakfast, smiling to himself as he listens to the soft chattering of Gwen and Frida across the room. It occurs to him that Frida probably already knows what happened last night, but he finds that he truly doesn't care. _She probably knew about it before I did,_ he thinks, picking up an apple now and biting into it noisily.

"Arthur, will you come read these and sign them?" Merlin calls, and Arthur stands, sauntering over, carrying his apple.

He scans the parchments. "Nice work, Merlin," he says, taking the quill from his servant's hand. He dips it in the ink and then signs his name on both. Then he pulls out the sealing wax and seal, sets them on the desk for Merlin, and wanders away again, towards the screen.

"I hear you prowling, Artur," Frida's voice comes drifting out from behind the screen.

_Damn, she has good ears. I will have to make sure to warn Percival._

"I wasn't going to…" he starts, but gives up when he hears Gwen laughing at him now.

"Just because you have already seen everyting doesn't mean you get to peek."

"Frida!" Gwen exclaims, but she is still laughing. Arthur stands dumbfounded, blinking, wondering if he heard her correctly. A clattering off to one side of the room caused by Merlin having nearly spilled ink all over the desk confirms that his ears were not deceiving him.

"I'm already dressed, anyway," Gwen says, coming out in a lovely blue dress, in a darker shade than she normally wears.

"Guinevere, you look beautiful. Is that new?" Arthur steps over and kisses her cheek.

"Yes. It was almost done. Frida finished it last night for me."

"Ya, since I had no one to talk to…" she says, teasing Arthur yet again.

"Frida, you are playing with fire," Merlin calls, trying not to laugh, wondering how far Arthur will let her go before losing it.

"The way I see it, Merlin, the king is in a good mood. And rightfully so. I do not tink I am in any danger. Am I?"

Arthur laughs. "No, Frida, and you're right. It has been too long since I've been this happy," he says, gathering Gwen into his arms.

"I have been vatching you, my lord, during my time here," Frida says, suddenly serious. "I do not alvays know all the vords that are said around me, so I have developed skill for learning about people by vatching dem. You are a good man, Artur. Good king. You have a very good sense of what is just and right. Your heart is true, but you do not alvays listen to it."

"Thank you, Frida, and you're right. I don't always, and I should more."

"Dat is one of the reasons vy you need Gven, Sire. She holds your heart."

"One of many reasons," Arthur says, looking down at Gwen.

Merlin clears his throat pointedly.

"Yes, Merlin?"

"What of King Olaf? Should we not invite him?"

Arthur groans, throwing his head back. "You know what? We haven't had any recent dealing with Olaf, and his kingdom is quite a distance. I do not think we are obliged to invite him, even if the messenger could make it in time."

"Not to mention the fact that Vivian may still be enchanted," Merlin mutters, picking up the two parchments to go in search of two fast and fearless messengers.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur shoots back at him as he passes. Merlin just continues grinning.

"Arthur, I think Frida and I should be paying a visit to the royal seamstresses, don't you?" Gwen looks up at Arthur.

"I honestly don't care what you get married in," he says, giving her a grin that tells her _exactly_ what he'd like to see her wearing.

She makes an exasperated noise and pushes his chest. He holds her tight, her efforts barely budging him. "We're going anyway," she says, and he sighs and releases her.

Gwen looks down and sees he is still clutching his half-eaten apple. She lifts itm to her mouth, taking a bite from the fruit in his hand.

"Enchantment?" Frida asks.

"I'll tell you about it on the way," Gwen says, chuckling as the two women walk out.

xXx

The days pass in a whirlwind, yet they seem to drag. Arthur and Gwen don't get to see enough of each other, stealing moments here and there as they pass. Gwen has stubbornly insisted on sleeping in her own bed the next night, though her things are gradually being moved into Arthur's chambers, which he insisted they share instead of keeping separate quarters.

"You'd never be in there anyway, and the bed would be completely unused," he explains while Gwen laughs at his thinking that he needs to convince her.

Elyan has stopped his night patrols and so Gwen sees more of her brother. He grabs her the morning before the wedding as she hurries past on her way to yet another dress fitting.

"Gwen, do you have a moment?" Elyan calls, falling into step beside her.

"Just one, talk while we walk," she says, taking his arm.

"Goodness, I forget how fast you can walk," he comments. "Gwen, I was wondering…" he starts, then pauses.

"Yes?"

"Who is going to be escorting you down the aisle tomorrow afternoon? I know I don't deserve the honor, and if you've already asked Gaius, I completely understand, but—"

"_Elyan,_" she interrupts. "Yes, I would love for you to be my escort." She stops and turns to face him. "I haven't been able to _find_ you to ask you. Of course I want you. You're the only family I have left, silly."

"Thank you," Elyan says, hugging her tightly. "I love you, you know that, don't you, Gwennie?"

"I love you, too, Elly."

xXx

"Gven, ven you are qveen…" Frida asks shyly. The wedding is tomorrow, and Gwen had again insisted on sleeping in her little house on this last night. She and Frida are tucked in, sharing secrets in the dark. For what could be the last time.

"Yes?"

"May I be your maidservant?"

"No," Gwen answers, and she thinks she can hear her friend's sweet face falling.

"Frida, when I am queen, you will by my lady-in-waiting," Gwen says.

"Vat is dis lady-in-vaiting?"

"It means that you will be my… assistant. Companion. You'll assist me with my duties, keep my appointments in order, be my confidante. That kind of thing."

"Confidante?"

"Someone I can talk to, tell my troubles to, share secrets with. So that will be no different," she smiles.

"But surely you can confide in Artur, yes? He vill be your husband, after all."

"Well, of course, but it is not the same. Sometimes you need a lady's ear, you know. A sister. And besides, what if it's _Arthur_ I need to talk about?" she asks, chuckling impishly.

Frida laughs, and mulls this over a moment, excited and proud that Gwen would honor her so. "So, it is like Merlin is to Artur, except Merlin is still a servant," Frida says.

"Well, sort of a mixture between Merlin and Sir Leon," Gwen smiles, vowing to do something about Merlin. _He deserves a better position._ "It is a position given to a Lady of the court, Frida."

"But…"

"I'm a commoner, too, remember?"

Gwen suddenly finds herself tackled by her dear friend as Frida leaps across the small space to thank her. "Tank you, Gven. I am… honored. And someting else…"

"Overwhelmed?" Gwen asks, laughing as Frida returns to her bed.

"Ya. Too much emotions."

"And Frida," Gwen says, smirking, "if you are a Lady, that means there will be absolutely no problem at all when you decide to let Sir Percival court you."

"Vat do you mean, 'ven?' I haven't decided yet," Frida protests, grateful that the dark will hide the color she feels rising to her cheeks.

"Frida," Gwen says, not convinced at all. "I was talking with Percival yesterday. He called me 'Gven' at one point in the conversation."

Frida covers her giggles with her hand. "Ve have been talking a lot," she confesses. "He visits me in the dairy almost every day now."

Gwen looks over at Frida, silhouetted in the dark. "You're playing hard to get!" she exclaims suddenly.

"Vat?" Frida actually feigns innocence.

"You're stringing him along to draw it out, make it last longer," Gwen says, smirking.

"All right, I am!" she admits. "It's just dat… it's been unhappiness for so long, and I've never really had a man court me properly…"

"Frida, you don't need to explain," Gwen chuckles, reaching across to squeeze her friend's hand. "Just… don't draw it out too long or he may lose interest."

"I do not tink I have anyting to worry about," Frida grins.

Gwen pauses a moment. "Probably not."

The two women lay silent for a few minutes, and just as Gwen's eyelids start to drop, she hears Frida.

"Gven?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to miss dis. Our bedtime talks in the dark."

"Me too."

"I love you, my sister."

"I love you, too, Frida."

xXx

The morning of the wedding, Queen Annis arrives in the courtyard, riding tall and proud atop a magnificent black horse, a small retinue of knights accompanying her. Arthur and Gwen are there to greet her, waiting on the steps until she dismounts.

Arthur then escorts Gwen forward, striding toward the visiting Queen. "Queen Annis, I am honored, _we_ are honored that you could join us today," he greets her, extending his hand. She places hers in it and he lifts it to his lips, kissing it respectfully. "May I present my betrothed, Lady Guinevere of Camelot."

Gwen curtsies to the queen. "It is a pleasure and an honor to meet you, my lady," she says. When she looks up she catches sight of Makeda standing behind Annis out of the corner of her eye, and she has to hold back the urge to run and hug the girl.

"The honor is mine, Guinevere," Annis says, smiling at her. "I am pleased indeed to find that our young king here was bold enough to follow his own heart to its correct destination," she says archly smirking at the king, implication plain in her voice. _When he does not follow his heart, it leads to the wrong places._

"Thank you, my lady," Gwen says. "And please, my friends call me Gwen. It would make me very happy if I could count you among them."

"Of course, Gwen," Annis smiles at the girl. _She is bold. Not afraid to speak. She will be good for him._

"We have prepared some of our finest accommodations for you, your highness," Arthur says, smiling, overjoyed that Annis approves of Gwen, but not really understanding why this makes him happy. "Your highness," he offers his free arm to the queen, and she takes it.

They are just about to start for the castle when Gwen glances over her shoulder again at Makeda. "Arthur?" she squeezes his elbow and he pauses, following her line of sight.

He recognizes the maid immediately and nods, patting her hand once. Gwen scurries back and when Makeda hugs her tightly, Gwen knows that the other woman has been equally eager to greet her.

"I'm glad you could come along," Gwen whispers. "Are you happy in Caerleon?"

Makeda releases her and smiles down at her. "Yes, very. The queen is a wonderful mistress," she says, and they start to walk, following Arthur and Annis. "I do almost nothing, actually," she laughs, and it is a loud, throaty laugh that makes heads turn. Gwen has to laugh with her, it is so infectious.

They enter the castle and Frida intercepts them, just returning from her own hurried meeting with the seamstresses.

"Makeda!" she exclaims and rushes to them, hugging Makeda, who is nearly as tall as Frida is.

Arthur glances behind him at the three women reuniting and chattering away, then looks at Annis. "They'll catch up," he shrugs, and continues leading the chuckling queen to her quarters.

"Frida, I am so happy to see you," Makeda says, holding the other woman at arms' length. "You look like you are faring quite well," she says.

"I could say the same of you," Frida laughs. "Qveen Annis is a good mistress?"

"She's hardly a mistress at all. I am more of a companion than a maid," the women are so busy catching up that they forget to move their feet. "Yes, I help her dress and fix her hair, but I do little else," she smiles at Gwen. "I am very grateful to your future husband, Gwen. We all are."

Gwen smiles. "Yes, even me."

"My lady…"

"Tell me," Makeda presses, "is it true that Helios is dead?"

"My lady."

Gwen glances at Frida, who nods, understanding Gwen's reticence. "Ya. Dead and gone. His men all dead or fled, too."

"Gwen!" Leon finally gives up at trying to address her properly.

She turns. "Oh! I'm sorry, Sir Leon, I'm not accustomed…"

"It's all right, but the party from Nemeth is nearly here!" the tall knight explains hurriedly. "The scouts got confused after Caerleon arrived, thinking that was it. Now the princess is probably at the gates and _where is Arthur?_"

"Leon, calm yourself," Gwen laughs, then looks. Arthur and Annis are nowhere to be seen. "They probably went on ahead to Annis' rooms," she says, then looks at Frida. "Frida, will you take—"

"Ya, I know vat to do," Frida interrupts, taking Makeda's arm. "Come, I show you to your mistress and tell you all about Helios' vonderfully horrific death," she says to Makeda, then back over her shoulder to Gwen, "I vill tell Artur about Nemeth guests."

"Thank you!" Gwen calls back, then takes Leon's arm and lets him escort her out to greet the princess.

Only when she sees the party enter the courtyard does she realize what she's doing.

_I'm greeting the princess that Arthur almost married. The princess he threw over for me. And I'm greeting her without Arthur._

Suddenly she notices that she is gripping Leon's arm rather tightly, the links of his chainmail digging into her fingers.

"Gwen," he says quietly, "relax. She's really very nice, honest."

"I _know,_ but…"

"Too late, come on," he says, stepping forward.

Gwen is transfixed, watching the party approach, the princess in the center of a group of veiled knights. She finds the fact that she can't see their faces a little unsettling, actually, but it is nothing compared to her conflicted feelings at seeing Princess Mithian.

"Last time she arrived she was clad all in white and veiled as well," Leon tells Gwen quietly, leaning over so she can hear him. "Of course, it was lace, not mail," he chuckles.

This time the princess is wearing a gown of soft pine green, warming her pale complexion and complementing her dark hair and eyes. Gwen glances up at Leon, still uneasy, and finds herself a little perturbed at his calm demeanor.

_What is keeping Arthur?_

Leon strides forward and helps Mithian dismount, reaching up for her and lifting her down easily.

"Welcome to Camelot, my lady," he says politely. "I must apologize, the king is detained at the moment. Queen Annis of Caerleon arrived just moments ago, and he is still seeing to her."

"Thank you, Sir… Leon, correct?" she asks, looking up at him.

Leon smiles, pleased that she remembered his name. "Yes, my lady, Sir Leon," he says, then turns and guides her towards Gwen. "May I present Lady Guinevere of Camelot," he introduces the two women. "My lady, Princess Mithian of Nemeth."

Gwen holds out her hand to the princess, willing it not to tremble. "I am honored to meet you, my lady," Gwen says, smiling warmly – she hopes – at the princess.

Mithian takes Gwen's hand and squeezes it, smiling back. "And I am humbled to meet you," she answers.

Gwen is surprised at her answer, but the princess says it so kindly, almost complimentary, that she cannot help but smile.

"I am pleased that you could make the journey on such short notice, Princess," Gwen says. "Things have been happening rather quickly around here, and…" she stops talking when she sees Leon and Mithian's eyes raise, looking behind her.

She turns and sees Arthur jogging towards them.

"Princess Mithian, welcome," Arthur says, joining them. "I apologize for my tardiness, I…"  
"It has all been explained to me already, thank you, Arthur," Mithian says. "Sir Leon and Lady Guinevere have been most hospitable in your absence, I assure you."

"Please, do call me Gwen," Gwen tells her, turning back to her. "As I was saying," she says, grinning impishly at Arthur, "the last few days have been a flurry of activity, but we do have your rooms prepared if you'd like to freshen up and rest from your journey."

Mithian glances at Arthur, interested at how Gwen still wished to finish her thought and did not defer to the king. _If this is how she behaved while a servant under Uther, I'm amazed that she yet lives,_ Mithian thinks.

"Yes, Gwen, I would like that very much," she says. "And please call me Mithian," she adds, smiling at Gwen.

Arthur releases the breath that he didn't realize he was holding. "My ladies?" Arthur steps forward again, intent on escorting both women.

"Sire, if I may offer my services as escort?" Leon speaks up, almost bashfully, offering his arm to Mithian.

"Um," Arthur looks puzzled a moment at the irregularity of the suggestion, and from _Leon_ of all people, but then Gwen nudges him. "Yes, thank you, Sir Leon."

xXx

They all lunch in the great hall, Arthur, Gwen, Annis, Mithian, Frida, and the knights, with Merlin and Makeda attending. Annis and Mithian have met once or twice and exchange pleasantries, Annis asking after the king and queen of Nemeth.

"My father's health continues frail, unfortunately," Mithian tells her. "Else they would have joined me on the journey. Mother won't leave his side. My older brother Audric has been acting as regent for many months now, in fact."

"I am sorry for your father. He is a good man," Annis says, patting the princess' hand.

"And how fares the crowned prince of Nemeth?" Annis asks. "Has he yet taken a wife?"

Mithian chuckles. "No, they're either too tall or too short or not important enough to the kingdom or too plain, or too…" she trails off, shaking her head. "It is only because my father's health is so frail that he allows Audric to be so capricious."

"How is Nemeth's relationship with Gawant?" Arthur asks, joining the conversation.

Mithian turns to him, puzzled. "Almost nonexistent, my lord, but what does this have to do with…" She looks over and sees Annis smiling into her goblet, obviously understanding where the king is going with his question.

"They are a good ally to have," Arthur says. "Godwin is a good king with a wise head on his shoulders, and I _believe_ his daughter has not yet been spoken for. Your brother might consider reaching out to them."

"Is that so?" Mithian asks, inclining her head. "I never figured you much for a matchmaker, my lord."

"She just came to mind, that's all," Arthur says noncommittally, hoping that Mithian isn't noticing the few knowing looks and smirks being passed between several others at the table.

Talk turns political, so Gwen takes her opportunity to watch and listen a bit. She notices that Frida and Percival can't keep their eyes off one another, Frida blushing into her goblet on more than one occasion. Gwaine notices this as well, and starts flirting with Frida, just to irritate Percival.

Unfortunately, Frida doesn't notice Gwaine's attentions and Percival nearly stabs the other knight in the hand for his efforts. Gwen stares down both men like they are her naughty children until Gwaine looks sufficiently contrite and Percival smiles sheepishly at her.

Elyan sees this and laughs.

Once or twice Gwen thinks she catches Mithian stealing glances at Leon, who appears to be sitting a bit straighter than usual. He's even planted himself between Elyan and Gwaine rather than next to Percival, as is his usual habit. So he looks taller.

Gwen chuckles, looking down at her plate while Arthur and Annis discuss various neighboring kingdoms and Helios' fortress and what is to become of it.

"I sent a party out to claim anything of value, obviously," he says.

"Yes, you did conquer the fortress, the spoils are your right as king," she agrees.

"There were many very interesting documents I should like to show you, if you have a few moments after lunch," he says.

"Oh? Surely you should be preparing for your wedding," she says.

"This won't take but a moment," he says, looking at Gwen, whom he just noticed is giving him one of those looks. "Just some rather interesting plans I found. The brute had several irons in the fire, it seemed."

"Indeed," she says, raising her eyebrows. "Anything of specific interest to Caerleon?"

"Of course."

"Then I am quite curious indeed," the queen answers.

"Nothing of interest to Nemeth, I imagine?" Mithian asks.

"None, sorry. Apparently Helios had no designs on your quiet kingdom," Arthur says.

"Well, for that I am grateful."

"Mithian, is there anything you wish to do this afternoon before the wedding? I'm sorry that I won't be able to join you, but if you wish for a tour of the grounds, I'm sure we could have that arranged for you," Gwen says, looking slyly at Leon out of the corner of her eye. "Perhaps a tour of the gardens would be to your liking?" she recommends.

Mithian smiles, growing more impressed with this woman as the minutes pass. "Thank you, Gwen, and I would very much like a tour. I'd love to see as much as I can. Particularly the training fields and the armory, if you do not think me odd," she says, blushing slightly.

_Perfect,_ thinks Gwen. "Not at all. It is an unusual interest for a Lady, but who am I to criticize anyone for being unconventional?" She smiles warmly at the princess.

"I do so enjoy the outdoors, that's all. The surrounding forests are quite lovely as well, if memory serves," she says.

"Yes, when Mithian visited last, she joined us on the hunt for the Festival of Stara and quite skillfully took down a pheasant. In flight," Arthur says, raising his goblet to her. "It was most impressive."

"Not half as impressive as the stag you felled with one shot, my lord," she answers back, toasting him in kind.

"Sir Leon," Gwen says, turning her attention to the knight. "You have been a knight of Camelot longer than many, and know the grounds like the back of your hand. And you are also our resident weapons expert, am I correct?"

Several of the men answer on his behalf, nodding and joking slightly. Leon is quite notorious for his obsession with armaments.

"Perhaps you would like give Princess Mithian a tour after lunch?"

Leon blushes slightly behind his beard, and Gwaine positively leers at him. Gwen can see the snide remarks bubbling just below the surface and honestly wonders if the mouthy knight will be able to hold his tongue much longer.

"I… I would be honored, my lady," Leon manages quietly.

"Very good. There is no training today anyway, what with this being a day of festivity, so there is no problem, then," Arthur says.

Everyone seems to be done eating, and so Arthur stands, holding his hand for Guinevere. She takes it and stands.

"If you will all excuse me, I must retire to my temporary room to prepare for this afternoon," Gwen says. "Frida?" She looks to her newly-appointed lady-in-waiting, who stands also.

"Ya, I vill attend you, my lady," she answers.

Gwen turns to leave, but Arthur stops her. "Not so fast," he says quietly, lifting her chin with his fingers gives her a soft kiss, sweet and lingering, there in front of everyone.

Gwen blushes and quietly says, "I'll see you in the great hall."

"I'll be waiting," he says, grinning.

Frida gives a quick but sweet smile to Percival before the two women turn and exit.

"Your highness?" Arthur holds his hand out for Queen Annis now. As she stands, Arthur raises his eyebrows at Leon pointedly, noticing that Gwaine is also nudging him.

"Merlin," Arthur calls to his servant, indicating he should follow. He and Makeda both follow as Arthur and Annis exit.

Leon rises and walks around to Mithian. "My lady, shall we?"

Mithian stands and looks up at him. "My, you are a tall one. I didn't really notice before," she comments, taking his arm.

"I like to think of it as everyone else is short," he jokes, smiling charmingly at her. "Except for Percival there, who is taller still than me, but only just."

Mithian laughs, and as they exit, Gwaine can hold his tongue no longer. "What. The hell."

"I know," Elyan complains. "She's my own _sister_ and she can't recommend me?"

"No, not that," Gwaine says, waving his hand in annoyance. "Since when is Leon charming?"

"You two sound like a couple of jealous little girls," Percival remarks.

"Oh, easy for you to say, what with that Viking goddess making eyes at you all the time," Gwaine says sarcastically, grinning when the large knight blushes.

"Can't help that, lads. She just prefers _tall_ men, what can I say?" And with that, he stands. "I'm off, then. See you blokes at the wedding."

"And what are you off to do?"

"I am going back to my room and have a bath. Have to smell good for my Viking goddess, you know," Percival remarks casually, striding from the room as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Git," Gwaine grumbles. He looks over at Elyan. "Tavern?"

"Nah, Gwen would kill me if I showed up drunk to her wedding. I'm escorting her down the aisle, you know. If I'm staggering and smelling of drink, she _may_ suspect something. I'm going to have a nap, I think. Too long on night patrols; can't get used to these daytime hours yet."

Elyan stands and places his hand on the other knight's shoulder. "Don't worry, we won't be bachelors forever."

"Who says I'm interested in _not_ being a bachelor?" Gwaine asks, looking up at Elyan.

"You do," Elyan laughs and exits, leaving Gwaine alone at the table.

xXx

"So, Frida," Gwen starts as they walk down the corridor together.

"Princess Mithian is quite surprising, ya," Frida says, knowing exactly what Gwen is about to ask.

"Not what I expected. In a good way," Gwen agrees.

"She is…" she struggles with the words, as she often does in these situations, "simple. Not simple like a fool, simple like…"

"She doesn't have any airs about her," Gwen finishes, entering the guest room she is using for the day to prepare. "Hello, Elga," she greets the maid who has her bath nearly prepared.

"Afternoon, my lady, Lady Frida," she greets them, smiling warmly at the two girls. _Such a change from before._

"Mithian doesn't behave like so many nobles that conduct themselves as if they are truly better than the common folk," Gwen continues, turning back to Frida, "the ones that feel they deserve everything they have just because they were born noble."

"Ya, dat is just vat I mean. It is so helpful dat you understand me, Gven," Frida laughs.

"She would have been a good queen for Camelot," Gwen muses, winding her hair up.

"_You_ are the correct qveen for Camelot, Gven," Frida says loyally, and looks over to see Elga nodding her agreement as she decants several drops of lavender oil into the steaming bathwater. "See, even Miss Elga agrees," she grins.

"Oh! I beg pardon, my lady, I never…" Elga stammers, not realizing that she had been nodding.

"Elga," Gwen turns, smiling. "How long have we known each other?"

"Too long. Longer than I know how to count, certainly, my lady."

"Then you should know me well enough to know that you need not censor yourself around me. Regardless of who I am marrying in a few hours. And please, you can still call me Gwen."

Elga blushes and returns to her duties, setting out the soap that Gwen prefers and a cloth, a towel and a plush dressing gown in Pendragon red that Arthur had made for her.

Gwen sinks gratefully into the hot water, closing her eyes. Frida has disappeared briefly to go in search of both their gowns, clucking and fretting over the fact that they should have been in the room already, waiting for them.

Gwen simply wishes to soak for a bit before doing any washing, and she luxuriates in the warmth of the water, the lavender-scented steam rising around her face. She inhales deeply, exhaling slowly.

_Just a few more hours. A few small hours and then I will truly be Arthur's wife. He will be my husband. We will finally be able to be man and wife, be together, after all the struggles and heartache._

_ I'm going to be queen of Camelot._

She opens her eyes as this realization hits her.

_I'm going to be queen of Camelot._

_ Queen._

_ Me._

_ What the hell am I doing?_

"Elga?" she says quietly.

"Yes, dear?"

"Soap, please."

She hands Gwen the soap and cloth. "Is everything all right, Gwen?" the older maid asks.

"Just… just a little nervous, that's all."

"That is only natural. Wedding night jitters and all," she says absently, and Gwen doesn't have the heart to correct her. _She would be horrified anyway._

Gwen sits forward and Elga begins scrubbing her back just as Frida comes flying in with the dresses.

"Got dem!" she declares. "Dey vere just being pressed," she says, hanging them in the wardrobe.

"Oh, good," Gwen says absently, and Frida comes over, her face puzzled. She looks at Elga, who shrugs.

"Would you like to soak some more, dear?"

"No, I had best not. It is one thing so soak in clean water before I wash, it is quite another to sit in a soup of one's own leavings," she chuckles, standing and allowing Elga to wrap her in the towel.

She slips into a new silk shift, finer than any gown she has owned, and Elga holds the dressing gown out for her to slip her arms into.

The maid goes about cleaning up the bathing items, and Gwen sits at the vanity.

"Gven, someting is troubling you," Frida says, pulling a chair over for herself.

"Who do I think I am, Frida?" she asks suddenly. "I can't be _queen._"

_Ah, there it is._ "Gven. Do not tink of dis as you becoming qveen. Tink of it as you becoming Artur's vife. You are marrying the man, not the kingdom."

"One does not come without the other, Frida," Gwen shakes her head, disagreeing. "Oh, why did I think I could do this? Why did I have to fall in love with _him?_"

"Vy does anyone fall in love vit anyone, Gven? Vy did I fall in love vit Nils, ven I knew my whole life dat I vas promised to Per? Life is not a smorgasbord, ve are not given a table filled vit options from vich ve can pick and choose vat ve like and leave the rest. The gods have given us our lives, and vit dat privilege comes both bad and good. You have seen plenty of bad, so I tink it is time for some good, ya?"

"I sometimes forget how wise you are, Frida," Gwen smiles. "But I'm still scared."

"Of course you are. If you vere not scared I vould tell you dat you should not be qveen because you have the large head," Frida says decisively.

Gwen hears Elga gasp quietly, shocked at Frida's words, but she can only laugh at them and lean over to hug her friend.

There is a soft knock at the door just then.

"Who could that be?" Gwen wonders.

"I vill get. You stay here in case it is Artur prowling again."

Frida opens the door a crack to see Queen Annis and Makeda standing outside. "Oh! Please, come in, my lady," she says, opening the door wider.

"You are just in time, actually," Frida says quietly to Annis. "Gven could use some… advice right now, I tink."

Annis looks over at the tall blonde. "Oh? Is she nervous?"

"More nervous about being qveen den being vife."

"Ah, I see."

Annis walks over to Gwen while Makeda and Frida fuss over her dress, discussing something quietly between them.

"Gwen, dear, Frida tells me you can use some… support right now. May I be of some assistance, as someone who has walked a similar path?"

Gwen smiles up at the queen and motions to the chair that Frida has vacated.

"You are worried about being queen, I take it."

"Yes. I… I don't know what I was thinking, thinking that I can do this. All these years I've been in love with him, but I never _really_ gave much thought to the responsibility involved in loving such a man."

"I understand, believe me," Annis says.

"Begging your pardon, but I don't think you really do. I have spent my whole life being a _servant._ Cleaning things. Cooking things. Cleaning things some more. Looking after Lady Morgana, for goodness sake. Following orders. _Following,_ not _giving._"

"From what Arthur tells me, you were never one to just blindly follow orders," Annis chuckles. "He told me how you would yell at him. How you would challenge him to do what is right instead of what is expected. He loves you, yes, but more than that, he _respects_ you. Trusts you."

"I know," Gwen says quietly, toying with the belt of her dressing gown.

"Gwen. He wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you were not meant to be his queen."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Gwen, can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"I was very young when I was sent to become Caerleon's bride. My father arranged it with his father. Neither of us had any say. I had never met him, and I was trundled off to be married to a stranger."

"That must have been terrifying."

"To say the least. I had only sixteen winters behind me. I knew nothing of the world. Little of men. My father made certain of that, cloistering me away for most of my short youth."

Gwen leans forward, fascinated. She sees Frida and Makeda sitting nearby, listening as well.

"I was lucky in that Caer was only a little older than I, and equally scared. We were thrown together and we learned to like each other. Worked to trust each other." She pauses, interjecting a short laugh. "Ha. We _really_ had to work to trust each other."

"Eventually we realized that we did love each other, but it was only after ten years and three children."

"Goodness," is all that Gwen can think to say.

"So, you see, Gwen, you are fortunate. The _hard_ work has been done already. And as for being queen? In my short time here I have seen how everyone treats you. Servants and nobles alike. Their respect and care for you is genuine," she says. "I can tell," she whispers, smiling, leaning in conspiratorially now.

"Trust her, Gwen, she is very wise," Makeda pipes up.

"Being a wife of a king is difficult. But being queen is easy," Annis continues, waving her hand casually. "Be kind to the people. I know you will, since you were one of them. Keep the king in line. You certainly know how to do that already."

Gwen smiles and looks down.

"Provide as many heirs as your hips can bear," she says, smirking now. Then, serious again, she finishes. "And do not lose sight of where you came from. This is especially important for you, Gwen, and I know you will not disappoint." Annis stands.

Gwen stands with her. "Annis, thank you," she says, reaching for the queen's hand, squeezing it gently.

"It is my pleasure, dear Gwen," the queen answers. "Arthur is lucky indeed to have you by his side. Now. To more frivolous matters. Let's see this dress."

Before long, there is another knock at the door, and Frida lets Mithian in now, glowing radiantly with the outdoor air and Sir Leon's attention.

"I hope I am not intruding," she says, surveying the room. "I was looking for a maid to help me with my gown, and I heard your voices."

"Not at all," Gwen says. "You've come to the right place. Elga has just gone to fetch Nissa to help with the gowns."

"And I am more than willing to help," Makeda adds, wishing to lend a hand.

"Of course, Makeda, I… I just didn't want to presume…" Gwen says, smiling at the maid.

Makeda waves her hand. "If my lady does not object, I am at your service."

"Of course not," Annis says. "Although, I do need to change as well, if you would be so good as to fetch my gown, dear, I shall do so here with everyone else so I can keep enjoying this lovely festive air."

"Certainly," Makeda curtseys and hurries out.

"I do not get to see my daughters often," Annis explains. "So this is indeed a treat for me."

Frida takes Mithian's gown from her and hangs it up. "How vas your tour vit Sir Leon, my lady?" she asks.

"Lovely, I had a wonderful time," she says. "He really knows simply _everything_ about weaponry," she gushes. "It was quite… educational," she finishes evasively, her cheeks coloring slightly.

"Oh?" Gwen asks. "Only educational?"

"Gwen, thank you for recommending him," she steps over. "I don't remember the last time I had that good a time in the company of a gentleman."

"Even Arthur?" Gwen teases, actually feeling happy about the fact that she is able to tease about such a subject.

"Oh!" Mithian exclaims. "Arthur was lovely, certainly, and I thought that I quite liked him, but now, compared to…" she trails off.

"You're smitten with Sir Leon," Annis announces quite matter-of-factly. Mithian just bites her lower lip.

Makeda returns with Annis' things, and the next hour is passed quite companionably, chatting, gossiping, even teasing more. Annis watches over them all like a mother hen, completely in her element. Elga and Nissa bustle about adjusting dresses and fixing stays, losing shoes, finding shoes. Mithian regales them with how she thought that Merlin was the one holding Arthur's heart, causing riotous laughter among them.

As if on cue, there is another knock, followed by Merlin's voice. "Is everyone decent? I have something for Gwen."

Elga opens the door, and as Merlin walks in, Makeda chimes up, "Well I don't know about _decent,_ but everyone is certainly dressed."

The women laugh and Merlin blushes, his ears bright red. He has a box in his hands, and Gwen walks over to him.

"Hello, Merlin," she says, hugging her friend.

"My—"

"Don't you dare address me by title, Merlin. We have been through too much together for that nonsense," she scolds him.

He grins and hands her the box.

"What is this?"

"I come bearing a gift, an apology, and a message," he says, as if he has been rehearsing.

"Apology?"

"Because of the gift. He's a little nervous about that."

Gwen smiles. "I won't yell, I promise. What's the message?"

"You have to open the gift first."

She opens the box to discover a necklace and a pair of earrings, wrought in silver with amethysts set in.

"Beautiful," she says.

"Okay, so: He says to tell you that he hopes you will do him the honor of wearing these today. And he knows that material things matter little to you, but since these jewels belonged to his mother, he hopes that you will agree that these are not just _things._"

"They belonged to his mother?" she looks up at him, her eyes watery. He nods. "Of course I will wear them."

She sets the box on the table and then hugs Merlin again, kissing his cheek. "That's for you," she says. Then she turns and kisses the other cheek. "That's for Arthur."

"I am _not_ delivering that message," he says stubbornly, blushing again as he sees Mithian's highly amused face.

"Well you _can_ do me one favor, Merlin."

"Of course, anything."

"Do not let Arthur wear his chainmail for the wedding."

"What? I spent hours polishing that!"

"I don't care! I will not marry a man who is dressed like he is preparing for battle," she says, crossing her arms in front of her. Annis laughs knowingly in the background.

"I'll try," he says, sighing.

"I don't care how you do it, just do it. No chainmail."

"I'll probably have to tell him you said so."

"Whatever, just handle it."

"Now you sound like him!"

Gwen laughs and pushes him towards the door. "Now get out. I have to dress."

"Pushy, you are," he laughs, leaving.

"Makeda," Gwen turns now. "Your hair is always exquisitely styled. Would you honor me?"

"I was hoping you would ask," she says, grinning. "And I was about to offer, actually," she adds, laughing.

-xXx-

"Well?" Arthur asks when Merlin returns.

"She loved it. I knew she would."

"Oh, good. How much time do we have left?" he asks, pacing.

"An hour."

"An _hour?_ I'm not going to last that long."

"Arthur, what are you so anxious about?"

"I don't know," he says, stopping and looking at Merlin. "I'm not a patient man, Merlin, you know that." He starts pacing again.

"Well…" Merlin says, walking casually to the wardrobe. "We do need to find you something to wear…"

"What do you mean? I'm wearing my dress mail!"

"No, you're not."

"Merlin…"

"Don't you think it's kind of _odd_ to be wearing battle gear to get married?"

"It's traditional."

"Yeah, 'cause your wedding is completely traditional," he says sarcastically.

"But…"

_Time to pull out the heavy weaponry. I don't want to, but I have to._ "Gwen doesn't want you to wear the mail, Arthur."

"She doesn't?" he asks quietly.

"No. She doesn't."

"She said this?"

"She said this."

"Oh." He pauses. "Well, that's different, then."

Merlin rolls his eyes. _Should have started with that argument._ He opens the wardrobe now. "You have to admit, you'll be much more cuddly if you're not covered in metal."

"Shut up, Merlin. Fetch out that brocade coat. The red one with the gold detail."

"Excellent choice, my lord."


	8. Finale

The hour comes at last, after Arthur cursing the sun, swearing it is moving the wrong way, changing his trousers three times, and forgetting how to fasten his belt.

He stands at the front of the great hall, Geoffrey at hand, still and calm as always. His presence should have a calming effect on Arthur, but instead it only serves to annoy him.

"Any minute now, Sire," Merlin says, stepping up to straighten Arthur's jacket and otherwise check that he looks perfect on the outside, even if he is trying to jump out of his skin. He considers casting a calming spell, but he isn't quite sure if it will ease Arthur's mind or put him to sleep.

The doors open and Guinevere appears on Elyan's arm. Everyone turns, and a hush falls over the crowd. Arthur's eyes lock onto her as she approaches.

_I have never seen her look more beautiful. She truly looks like a queen._ Her gown is the palest lavender silk, almost white, soft and shimmery. Fitted bodice and flowing skirt that accentuating her feminine curves. Long, flowing sleeves and silver cording around the bodice and neckline. Her hair is mostly up, twisted into an intricate braided style that highlights her heart-shaped face, with several loose curls falling down, brushing her shoulders. _Her shoulders that are exposed. She did that on purpose just to torment me,_ he thinks, noting the wide scooped neckline, her shoulders on full display, her cleavage rising tantalizingly above the top of the bodice. _I am going to have to have Merlin tie my hands together._

Finally she reaches him and receives a kiss from Elyan on her cheek. Elyan clasps forearms with Arthur and hands Gwen over before retreating back beside his other knights.

Neither Arthur or Gwen remember much of the ceremony. They are too engrossed in each other. Arthur cannot tear his eyes from her honeyed skin. Her scent, fresh from her bath, wafts over to his nose and he almost closes his eyes just to smell her. He strokes the skin on the backs of her hands with his thumbs as he holds them between the two of them, just gazing down at her.

Gwen was quite pleased to find Arthur dressed in cloth instead of metal, and she is equally distracted by him. How the cut of his jacket accentuates his broad shoulders. How his belt drapes casually, drawing attention to his narrow waist. His light chest hair peeking at her from the top of his shirt.

Arthur has to be prompted twice to say his vows, bringing a smile from Gwen and a very quiet snicker from Merlin.

When Geoffrey declares that they must seal this sacred union with a kiss, Arthur grins. That part came through loud and clear. He gathers Gwen to him and gives her a kiss that has many feel like they are intruding on their privacy.

Their lips part and Arthur whispers, "I love you," to her before tucking her hand into his arm and escorting her up the aisle. At first the knights and courtiers curtsey and bow as they pass. Then, slowly, it builds. One person starts to applaud. Then another. And another. Soon all are clapping and cheering for their king and his bride, their joy infecting the entire kingdom.

They head immediately up the stairs to the balcony outside to greet the crowd gathered in the courtyard. As soon as Gwen appears, the cheering starts, the commoners less reserved than the nobility as they cheer for _their_ queen.

There are even a few shouts of "Long live the queen!" from the crowd. Gwen leans over and says, giggling, "I've not even been crowned queen yet." She is touched by the display of affection, though, and smiles and waves to everyone.

Gwen turns and looks at Arthur, who has an impish look on his face.

"No," she says, reading his mind.

"Yes," he answers, reaching for her and kissing her thoroughly, even tipping her back just a little.

The crowd erupts.

xXx

The feast is sumptuous; Arthur's and Gwen's favorites all on the menu. Merlin has never seen Arthur happier. Nor Gwen. People circulate to their table at regular intervals, wishing them well and trying to gain favor. Merlin bustles about, actually giving orders to the other servants, making sure everything continues perfect.

Frida is sitting beside Percival. Leon and Mithian keep locking eyes across the room, and once dinner is done, Leon just gives up and moves his seat.

The minstrels strike up in short order and people call for their king and his new wife to begin the dancing, as is tradition.

He stands, offers Gwen his hand, and leads her to the large space in the middle of the floor that has been cleared.

"Nothing too fast," he orders the lead minstrel as they pass.

They start a stately tune, and Arthur leads Gwen in the dance. Once again their eyes do not leave each other, and once again all that watch feel like they are intruding.

"Are they always like this?" Makeda asks Merlin.

"Like what?" Merlin asks, turning.

"Like _that._ Making everyone feel like we're somehow intruding on their privacy."

"Oh, that," Merlin says, chuckling. "Um, yeah. Often." His face grows serious, getting a wistful look about it now.

"Who is she? The woman you pine for?"

"What?"

"I can see it all over your face, Merlin. You love someone you cannot have."

"She died," he says simply, looking down.

"I am sorry for you, friend. She will be waiting for you in the next life."

_What an odd thing to say,_ Merlin thinks, looking at her, puzzling at her as she studies him with her wide eyes, so dark they are almost black.

She leans in close. "That is the way with people of magic," she says quietly in his ear.

He opens his mouth to protest, and she stops him. "I will not tell. I know the law here."

"How…"

"I do not have magic, no. I can see it on you, though. I have my own gift. It is not exactly magic, but it still brings me trouble," she smiles sadly, and Merlin guesses at what it is she was likely running from that landed her with Helios.

"You have a golden glow about you, Merlin," she continues.

"A what?"

"When I look at you. You have a golden glow. Only those that have magic within them are golden. Your king," she nods towards Arthur, "his is red. Power. Courage. And Gwen is—"

"Purple?"

"No," she smiles. "It is a soft green, like the new shoots in the springtime. Peace. Serenity. Kindness. My mistress is purple, actually. Wisdom and true nobility."

"Fascinating," Merlin mutters.

"But in my homeland I was persecuted. A young child does not know how to hold her tongue about what she sees."

Merlin squeezes her hand. "I will keep your secret, too. A secret for a secret. You say you do not have magic, but still we are kin."

Makeda squeezes his hand back with a smile and leaves him to go see to her queen.

Merlin sighs, oddly comforted by the strange woman's words, and heads out to refill his pitcher.

In the corridor, he turns a corner just in time to see Percival with his fingers curled gently under Frida's chin as he lifts her face to his and kisses her once, sweetly and chastely. Merlin smiles and hurries out of sight, dashing into the kitchen, wondering what colors _they_ are.

The dance finishes, and as the attendees applaud politely, Arthur bows to Guinevere. She curtseys in return, giving him an excellent view of her cleavage.

He takes her arm and leans over, saying, "You had them make this dress that way on purpose."

"Whatever do you mean?" she asks innocently.

"Those…" he gestures, not touching her, "_shoulders_ of yours. Not to mention…" his eyes drop to her bosom, and she laughs.

"Well, I did remember how much you enjoyed my shoulders," she says, leaning up to kiss him.

"You are driving me positively mad, Wife," he mutters against her lips.

Her heart does a happy skip and her stomach flutters at the word, and she can only smile at him.

"Um, excuse me, Sire, but may I borrow Gwen for a dance?" Elyan interrupts, holding his hand out.

"Of course, Brother," Arthur says, placing Gwen's hand in Elyan's, and they head back out. Arthur surveys the room, his eyes falling on Queen Annis a short distance away. He catches her eye, extends a hand and raises his eyebrows in invitation.

_Dance?_

She hesitates, unsure. Arthur tilts his head and gives her an impish look.

_Come on…_

She smiles, sets her goblet down and meets him halfway, her emerald green gown shimmering in the candlelight, offsetting her auburn hair.

"I have not danced in many years, Arthur," she warns him, but she steps confidently, never missing a beat or a turn.

"Well, I wouldn't know it, my lady," he answers, smiling charmingly at her.

"She is a good woman," Annis says after a time, glancing at Gwen as she dances with her brother.

"Better than I deserve," Arthur remarks.

"Indeed," she says, smirking at him. "Take care of her. She means much to your people."

"I intend to. And I know, you should have heard the crowd when we stepped out on the balcony."

"I did. We all did. It was quite a roar," she smiles.

The dance finishes, and Arthur bows, kissing Annis' hand. She curtseys and is about to thank him for the dance when she spies Merlin off to the side, discussing something with a servant, either explaining something to him or correcting him on something. In any case, Merlin looks very much like a young man in charge, clear-headed and intelligent.

Annis turns back to Arthur. "Excuse me, my young king, but didn't you say that your servant there," she nods in Merlin's direction, "was a simple fool?"

"Ah. That… wasn't exactly the truth. I only said it so you would spare his life. Honest. I do apologize," Arthur says, a little uncomfortable that she actually remembered and caught him.

She smiles. "I understand. Sometimes white lies are a necessary evil to protect those closest to us. You trust him, I can tell."

"I have so few people I can trust, my lady. Surely you know that hardship."

"Very much so." She smiles and pats his hand before she turns away, looking for her seat. Instead she finds herself face to face with Gwaine.

"Your highness, would you honor me?" he asks, grinning that devilish grin of his.

She studies him a moment. "Yes, all right," she concedes, taking his hand.

Arthur laughs, shaking his head as he exits the dance floor, scanning the room for Gwen.

She is dancing with Gaius now, the older man a bit stilted in his careful steps, but Gwen, to her credit, stays with him, altering her own motions to accommodate his. Arthur smiles and returns to his seat.

"Forgive me for saying so, your highness, but Caerleon was a very lucky man to have a queen such as you, possessing such beauty and intelligence," Gwaine tells Annis.

She looks down at him. "I am old enough to be your mother, sir knight."

Gwaine shrugs, still smiling, not bothered in the least. "A beauty is still a beauty, my lady."

"Perhaps I should say that I am old enough to have been acquainted with your parents, Sir Gwaine, Lord of Westphalia."

Gwaine stumbles, shocked out of his normally cool demeanor. "What?" he whispers.

"Keep dancing," Annis smiles at him. "I had a suspicion when I saw you at lunch," she explains. "Then just now when you asked me to dance and grinned like the devil himself I knew that you had to be that naughty son of Lord Radley and Lady Liliana."

"When did we meet?" he asks.

"You were a boy. But you still have the same eyes, that same smile. The beard is the only change," she laughs.

"I don't ever recall traveling to Caerleon as a child."

"We were the ones traveling. Passing through, and your parents hosted Caer and I for the night. I remember you have an older sister. Plain thing, poor dear; it seems you were given all the looks in the family."

Gwaine laughs at this remark. He has no love for his sister, who was nothing but cruel to him in her jealousy over the fact that he was prettier than she was. And smarter. "Um, Arthur doesn't know. About me being a real noble," he confesses.

"I gathered as much. I will keep your secret, as it is not my news to tell," she says pointedly.

"Perhaps one day I'll spring it on him," Gwaine answers.

Merlin is Gwen's next victim. She has to physically pull him to the dance floor with her. "Merlin, you are one of my dearest friends," she tells him. "Do not insult me by refusing to dance with me on my wedding day."

He sighs. "Can't argue with that," he says, then he looks over and sees Arthur escorting Frida onto the dance floor.

"He must have gotten tired of watching you dance with everyone," Merlin nods in their direction.

Gwen smiles. Frida is a very unsure dancer, as the dances from her homeland are very different, but Arthur is very patient with her, trying to guide her where she needs to go.

About halfway through the piece, both Arthur and Frida have fallen to laughter and just give up, mutually declaring her "hopeless."

"Percival, good luck," Arthur says, handing her off to the knight who had been standing nearby, watching in amusement.

"Gwen, you look beautiful," Merlin says. "I don't think you've ever looked lovelier."

"Thank you, Merlin, and thank you for this lovely feast. I know you were the one behind all the planning of the day, and you did a splendid job."

"Thanks," he blushes. "Just doing my duty."

"We are still friends, you and I. Just so we're clear on that fact, right?" Gwen asks suddenly.

"Yes. Even though you're not a servant anymore, I had hoped that you would still call me friend," Merlin smiles at her.

"Merlin, you are more than a friend and you know it. You're like another brother."

"I feel the same way," Merlin says. "Well, except you wouldn't be a brother, you'd be a sister, obviously…"

"Merlin, you're rambling," she laughs. "I thought I was the one that did that!"

The two friends hug at the end of the song, and Gwen decides she needs a break and a drink. As she heads back to her seat, she spies Matthias peeking in from one of the doorways. She heads over to greet him.

"Matthias, are you spying on the feast?" she teases him and he smiles and ducks his head.

"I am happy to see you. You know if it were not for you, none of this would be happening."

He smiles and looks embarrassed by her praise, waving his hand dismissively.

"No, really," she says, taking his hand in hers. "Thank you. You have no idea how grateful I am for all your help."

He pulls his other hand out from behind his back and extends it to her, a purple flower clutched in his fingers.

"Thank you," she says, taking the flower and tucking it into her hair. "There."

He smiles and looks over his shoulder.

"You have to go? Well, come here," she says, reaching out and hugging him. He smells of the stables, but she doesn't care.

"I'll make sure some food gets sent out to the stables," she tells him, then pats his shoulder once before he scurries away.

Gwen returns to her seat, realizing for the first time that her feet are growing tired. She watches as Arthur dances with Mithian, chuckling to herself when she sees that Leon is hovering nearby, waiting for the next dance, no doubt.

She watches her husband with the Princess when Leon spies her alone and pulls her from her seat again.

"Leon!" she exclaims, laughing.

"I have a plan," he tells her quietly while they join the last half of the dance.

"I'm certain you do," Gwen smiles up at him. "Though I fear she will be wanting a box to stand on," she laughs. "I know I certainly do."

Leon laughs with her, keeping have an eye on Arthur and Mithian. "Gwen," he says to her, "I want you to know that I will be very proud to call you my queen."

"Thank you Leon, that means worlds to me," Gwen answers, genuinely touched.

"Any of the knights of Camelot would lay down his life to protect you, my lady. I have made certain that we have no dissenters among our ranks."

_Of course you have,_ Gwen thinks. "Sir Leon, you are a fine captain and Arthur is lucky to have you at his right hand."

"And he is lucky to have you at his left."

Gwen blushes slightly now.

"My mother would be very proud of you, you know. So would yours," Leon says. His mother was always fond of Gwen. In fact, Lady Amelia is the reason she and Elyan can both read and write, purposefully including them in her own children's lessons.

"I know. My father, too. He would be positively bursting," she says, smiling a little sadly.

"Indeed he would."

They've successfully made their way close enough to Arthur and Mithian as the song ends.

Gwen beats the knight to his plan, taking his hand and gracefully passing it along to Mithian as she turns into Arthur's arms.

"Smooth," Arthur says, pulling her into his arms with absolutely no consideration for the correct dance steps.

"Leon's idea," she chuckles. "I just helped."

"Doesn't look like he needs much," he says, looking over at them. They are dancing properly, but they cannot take their eyes off one another.

"Hopefully her parents will approve," Gwen says. "She's a princess, and while he is a noble, he is of lower standing."

"I don't think she much cares," Arthur laughs. "While we were dancing she did little else but talk of him."

Gwen grins while Arthur continues, still holding her around her waist. "It was _Sir Leon_ this and _Sir Leon_ that, and then _Sir Leon_ said…"

Gwen laughs now. "You know, if things do work out for them…" she starts, thinking now, taking Arthur's hand and leading him back to their seats.

"Wouldn't they be an ideal pair to be the Lord and Lady of Helios' now-abandoned-but-property-of-Camelot castle? People that we can trust. People that would take care of the land and its people?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking," Gwen smiles. Arthur sits and pulls her into his lap.

"Arthur!" she exclaims, giggling. He silences her giggles with a kiss, wrapping his arms around her.

"People are watching, you know," Gwen pulls away, laying her hand on the side of his face.

"I don't care. It's our wedding day. I'm allowed to kiss you as much as I want," he counters, kissing her again just to prove his point.

"Arthur," Gwen says quietly, "we can take our leave soon. We need to be good hosts just a little longer."

"I know," he sighs, releasing her to her own chair.

Various Lords and Ladies pass by their table, offering congratulations and giving their regards. Some are more sincere than others, and Gwen finds that it is relatively easy to separate those that are genuine from those who are merely saying what they think their king wants to hear.

At one point Gwen catches Annis' eye across the room, finding the Queen watching her, half-smiling. Gwen smiles slightly and gives her a small nod. Annis smiles back knowingly. _She will do well here, indeed._

The night wears on. Merlin sends servants out to the courtyard with trays and trays of the leftover food, making sure to send an ample supply to the stables on Gwen's request. Guests begin to leave, Queen Annis among the first of them, citing that she cannot stay up as late as she once could.

Arthur kisses her hand and thanks her for making the journey; Gwen stands and hugs her, thanking her for all her help and advice earlier.

"Any time, dear," Annis says. "And I do mean that. I look forward to corresponding with you."

"As do I," Gwen says.

"You'll return next week for the coronation, my lady?" Arthur asks.

"I will make every effort," Annis says, smiling at them both. "As I may not see you in the morning, I thank you for your hospitality and bid you farewell," she says, her eyes twinkling knowingly. "May the gods bless you both."

"Good night, Annis, and sleep well," Gwen says. "Makeda," she turns to the maid, embracing her tightly. "It was so wonderful to see you. Send my love to the others."

"I will do that. They will all be so thrilled for you." Then she kisses Gwen's forehead and whispers a few words in her native tongue. "Traditional marriage blessing of my people," is all that Makeda will say before following her mistress from the hall.

Gwen allows Gwaine to pull her back to the dance floor, and the rascally knight behaves quite respectfully, much to Arthur's surprise. He kisses her hand at the end, saying, "I always knew you were a princess."

Percival, Elyan again, Arthur, Merlin again. All wish for a dance with their future queen. Finally Gwen holds up her hands and declares, "No more! My poor feet are done in!"

xXx

"Do you think anyone noticed?" Arthur asks as they quietly make their way up to Arthur's chambers. Their chambers.

"What, that we left? Frida did. And Gaius, who, honestly, I'm surprised was still there."

"Keeping an eye on Merlin," Arthur laughs.

"Merlin doesn't need looking after anymore," Gwen says. "Or did it escape your attention that he had everything perfectly done today?"

"It did not," Arthur says. "He is very good at his job. There, I've said it, now I never have to again."

Gwen laughs. "Yes, you do. To him."

"Hmph," Arthur pouts. They're outside the doors to their room now. "I don't want to talk about Merlin anymore," he says, pushing the door open.

Gwen is about to enter when Arthur stops her. "That is not how this is done," he says, leaning down and lifting her easily in his arms.

"Of course, how silly of me," Gwen says, wrapping her arm around his neck and cuddling up against him.

He carries her in and sets her gently on her feet. Then he locks the door. This time, the click of the lock brings excitement to Gwen's heart, desire. Not panic.

Gwen launches herself at him then, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly, suddenly glad that she doesn't have to deal with any wedding-night jitters.

If Arthur is surprised by her actions he recovers very quickly, running his hands along her body, feeling how the silk slips and slides under his hands.

"Your maid… isn't going to… come knocking… is she?" he asks, kissing, walking her backwards to the bed.

"Why do you think we snuck away?" she grins at him, kicking her shoes off now with a sigh, wiggling her tired toes. She reaches up and peels his jacket from his shoulders, setting it neatly aside. Next she reaches for his belt, setting it atop the jacket. He pulls his boots off, placing them at the foot of his bed rather than just kicking them aside or throwing them somewhere.

"See? I'm learning," he states proudly, and Gwen almost laughs at his attempts to impress her by being _tidy._

Instead she kisses him again, sliding her hands up under his shirt, the red one, to coordinate with the jacket.

_I like the white one better,_ she notes. "Thank you for not wearing your chainmail," she says, pulling his shirt up over his head.

"I got word that someone didn't like it very much," he admits, placing his hands back at her waist, taking a moment to fully appreciate her in her beautiful gown.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

"About six times."

"When I saw you in the great hall coming towards me on your brother's arm, I… I knew that you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen."

"Thank you, Arthur," she says demurely, still growing accustomed to receiving so much praise.

He leans down and kisses her shoulder now. "Been wanting to do that for hours," he says against her skin, moving up her neck now.

Her eyes drift closed as he feathers kisses on her exposed shoulders, neck and chest, and she finds herself being turned and feels the laces in the back of the dress start to loosen.

"Bloody…" he curses when one catches, but then he frees the knot and succeeds in opening the dress.

"I did try to have them not make it too complicated, but it was a little difficult to be delicate about those kinds of instructions," Gwen giggles.

"Really? You couldn't just say, 'Make it easy for my husband to take off of me?'"

Gwen's giggles turn into laughter now. She feels the dress slide lower, the slippery silk dropping easily, skimming over her skin like a caress as it falls to the floor. She steps out of the dress, retrieving it from the floor to set carefully beside Arthur's coat and belt. Her strapless shift still remains, and Arthur's trousers. Eyeing each other briefly, they silently debate which is the next to go.

Gwen steps forward and pulls the ties on his trousers, and the decision is made. He shoves them down impatiently and Gwen finally looks at him. Really looks.

_But he is beautiful, too. Every bit of him._

"Guinevere?" he asks, noticing her scrutiny.

"You are beautiful, Arthur."

He blinks his surprise. "Thank you," he slowly says. "I think that's a first for me."

"Pity," she says, reaching back for the small ties holding her shift closed. One tug and the garment slithers down her body, and she stands boldly before him, as naked as he, fearless now.

"Come here," he groans, reaching for her, his hands everywhere, luxuriating in her skin.

He closes his lips over hers, tongue immediately searching hers out, sweeping, plundering. She clutches his shoulders and presses her body against his.

_He is so warm, so firm. Unyielding but welcoming all the same time._

Somehow she finds herself on the bed, Arthur over her, surrounding her small body with his. He leaves her lips and kisses a trail down to her breasts, lingering there only briefly to kiss and nibble before moving lower, lower.

Lower. Gwen's eyes fly open with a gasped, "Oh!" as she feels his tongue press softly against _that_ part of her, the sensation shooting through her like a million stars. "Arthur…" she breathes his name, her head turning into the pillow.

Arthur smiles against her, his tongue darting out, sliding within her folds a few times before thrusting it inside her. She clutches the sheets, arching her back. Then he withdraws his tongue to circle it around her swollen button of nerves a few times and she cries out.

He suckles the nub, his tongue soft and pliant, moving slowly one minute, firm and pointed, flicking quickly the next.

"Oh… oh my… oh… yes… oh!" she gasps, crying out her release in the end, her hand in Arthur's hair, gripping it in her fist.

His lips mercifully leave her then, and he slides back up over her body. "Did that please you, my love?" he asks.

"Do you really need to ask that, or are you just looking for me to stroke your ego?" she replies, smiling, stretching luxuriantly beneath him.

"It is not my ego that is looking to be stroked," he purrs into her ear, and he is rewarded with a beautiful blush that spreads over her entire body.

"Ar—"

He cuts off her exclamation with his lips, and she tastes her moisture on his tongue. It is curious, but she is not troubled by it, kissing him back with equal abandon, mewling softly in the back of her throat when his hand finds her breast, fingers teasing the soft flesh and its stiff tip.

Remembering his words, her hand slips down, seeking him out, finding him and sliding her palm along his length.

He tears his lips away and groans, throwing his head back as she strokes him, her slender hand seeming to know what to do, what pleases him.

"Oh…" he groans, "stop, or I'll…"

_Oh. Right._ Gwen releases him momentarily, but then takes him back into her hand to position his shaft right where she wants it.

"Mmmm," Arthur hums contentedly, not able to wait any longer anyway. He pushes his hips forward, sliding into her.

She sighs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, wanting him close. Needing him close. Her leg twines around his thigh. He lowers his face and kisses her neck, sucking lightly at her sweet skin, its lavender scent surrounding him like an embrace.

He moves swifter, a little harder, pushing them both to the edge. Gwen is surprised to find herself approaching a second climax, the sensations building within her again. "Oh…" she says, "wow… I… I didn't know… it's…"

"Guinevere," he gasps against her skin, moving back to her lips now. "You're babbling."

"Sorry…" she gasps. "Oh…"

Arthur cannot help but chuckle for just a moment, but then he decides to increase again, a little harder, but cautiously, watching her reaction.

"Oh… yes…" she moans, one hand still gripping his shoulder, the other in his hair.

_All right, then,_ he thinks, and loses himself in her, closing his eyes now, abandoned to the sensation of her beneath him, around him.

"Oh… Arthur!" she cries out his name and holds him tighter, almost too tightly for him to continue moving, but he manages the last few thrusts he needs before he is spilling inside her, rushing forth in a great surge as they cling to each other.

He drops over her, carefully, relaxing against her, his head on her shoulder. She runs her fingers through his sweaty hair, kisses his forehead.

"I love you," she whispers again and again between her sweet small kisses on his forehead, his fingers lifted to her lips.

"I love you, my beautiful wife," Arthur answers, gently rolling off of her, sliding out of her. Gwen turns to the side and cuddles against him, and they just hold each other, not talking, for several minutes.

Eventually Arthur reaches for a goblet of water on the bedside table, drinking from it. He offers Gwen a drink, which she takes.

"I don't have a wedding gift for you," Arthur says suddenly.

"The jewelry wasn't a wedding gift?"

"No. That was…" he waves a hand, "that was I don't know. But it wasn't a wedding gift. It was a gift, yes, but from my mother. From queen to queen. Yes." He seems pleased with that assessment.

"It doesn't matter, Arthur. _You_ are my gift."

"And _you_ are impossible," he says, leaning down to kiss her.

"There is something, actually, that you could do for me, that I would like as my wedding gift. Well, not exactly me…"

"What is it?"

"The spoils from Helios' fortress."

"You want them? They're yours."

"No, Arthur," she laughs. "I… would like for that wealth to be kept aside for the people. To be used on things for the public good. Not for the castle or the nobility, but for the people. To make the entire kingdom a better place."

He stares down at her for a moment, and she is afraid that she's gone too far.

"Or not, it is just a thought," she says, ducking her head now, embarrassed.

"Guinevere," Arthur says, lifting her chin, "that is a brilliant idea. That wealth will be for the people, from the Peoples' Queen. The Queen's Fund, we'll call it."

"Truly? You would do that for me? For them?"

"For you, my love, I would snare the moon from the sky."

xXx

2 Weeks Later

"When is Leon due back from Nemeth?" Gwen asks Arthur over breakfast, which they have made a habit of taking alone in their chambers. They have so little time to discuss things alone together, that Arthur has declared breakfast Off Limits Except For Special Occasions Or Emergencies.

"Um, tomorrow, I think," he answers, stabbing a bite of sausage.

"Do you think her parents will give their blessing?"

"I should think. I certainly hope so, anyway. I've done all I can to make him look every bit as good as he is. I've written a letter extolling his various merits. Elevated his status to Lord and given him his own bloody fortress and land. I can't really do anything else," he shrugs. "Unless he wishes to be king, and I'm sorry, but we don't have any vacancies in that position," he chuckles.

"Mithian is smart. She will convince them," Gwen says, smiling at the memory of Mithian's and Leon's reunion last week when she returned to Camelot for her coronation. It was very clear that they had missed one another more than either of them realized they would.

"She did remark when she was here that she would give up her own kingdom to have the kind of love we share," Arthur comments.

"She may get that opportunity," Gwen smiles at him, reaching for his hand. He takes it and brings it to his lips.

"Have you made your decision about who the new captain is going to be once Leon leaves us?"

"My, you are optimistic," Arthur chuckles. "Been giving it some thought, yes. Bors has seniority, but his temper gets the better of him too often. And Bedivere is no leader. So. Gwaine, Elyan, or Percival."

"Not Gwaine," they say in unison.

"He is an excellent knight and I do trust him with my life, but he doesn't possess the discipline required," Arthur thinks aloud.

"True," Gwen agrees. "We all love Gwaine, but the Captain of the Guard shouldn't be seeing as many undersides of tavern tables as he does."

"Elyan…" Arthur mulls him over, waiting for Gwen to speak first about her brother.

"Elyan is not ready for that kind of responsibility," Gwen says. "He is too young. He is younger than me, you know."

"I do."

"Perhaps my opinion is still colored by his years of wandering and avoiding responsibility," she allows. "Maybe one day he will be ready. On the other hand, a dose of responsibility may be good for him. But not captain."

Arthur watches her, amused, as she argues with herself.

"Percival," he says. "He has a level head. Patient. I don't think I've ever heard him raise his voice outside of a battlefield or arena. And you cannot deny that he is skilled. He has a calming presence, too. The men feel better just having him around."

"That's because he's built like a stone wall," Gwen laughs. "But you are right. He is smart, too. Frida is teaching him to speak her language, and she tells me he is picking it up quite well."

"Really? How very… odd."

"And he's trying to teach her how to pronounce 'w' and 'th' correctly," Gwen laughs, wondering at what their evenings together must sound like.

Arthur laughs with her. "So, Percival, then."

Gwen smiles. "The hard part will be keeping it a secret until we know for certain about Leon and Mithian," she says. "And I _promise_ I won't say anything to Frida."

"I wasn't worried," Arthur shrugs.

Gwen picks at her breakfast, not terribly hungry this morning. "Arthur…" she says.

"Yes, my love?"

"Another thing to consider should Leon leave us…"

"What's that?"

"Well, he does assist you off the field quite a bit. Percival is smart, yes, but he doesn't know the ins and outs of the everyday running of this castle."

"Whom did you have in mind?" he asks, setting his fork down. _Why do I know what name is about to come from her lips?_

"Merlin. Make him a noble. Make him your advisor. You know he can do it. You know he deserves it. No one has been more loyal to you, Arthur." _Not even me,_ she thinks before she can help herself, and feels a little guilty for the thought.

Arthur says nothing, simply stares into space, thinking over her words.

"Arthur! Gwen!" Merlin comes rushing in then, not knocking, simply bursting through the doors like a whirlwind, eyes frantic, something clutched in his hand.

"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur asks, annoyed at the interruption. _Advisors don't interrupt their king's intimate breakfast with his wife._

"This…" he holds up the bracelet, breathing heavily, "found… dungeons… corner…" He reaches for the goblet Gwen is offering, and drinks.

"That's the bracelet Lancelot gave me," Gwen says quietly, staring at it.

"Is it now?" Arthur asks, his voice carefully calm.

"Enchanted," Merlin declares. "This bracelet was enchanted, Gwen. A love spell."

Merlin does not get the reaction he was expecting. Shouts, tears, maybe even fainting. He is not expecting Arthur to look slightly puzzled and Gwen to be completely calm.

"Oh," she finally says. "That's… good."

Merlin stares at them. "_Good?_ Do you realize that this means that you didn't do anything wrong, Gwen? That you didn't betray Arthur?"

"Yes, Merlin," she says, taking the bracelet delicately from his hand, studying it. "It's good news. But," she looks over at Arthur, who just watches her, fascinated. "But after all Arthur and I have been through, all the work, all the heartache and pain to find our way back to each other on our own…" she pauses, handing the bracelet back to Merlin. "It just doesn't matter anymore."

"But…" Merlin asks, still perplexed. _I was going to be the hero, and she sucked it right away._

"Don't be disappointed, Merlin," Gwen says, seeing his dejected look. "We're both very happy the mystery is solved, and we are grateful to you."

"Yes, Merlin," Arthur finally says. "Thank you. Now get rid of that thing."

xXx

Guinevere goes to the window, staring out over the fields that reach to the forest's edge. The sun is now high in the sky and the forest is tinged with ambers and browns as the leaves have turned and are poised to fall.

Motion at the forest's edge catches her eye, and she sees Merlin walking purposefully but furtively. She narrows her eyes now, curious. He pauses now, looking down at something in his hand. Something that glints silver in the autumn sunlight.

_Is that the bracelet? Where is he going with that?_

Merlin turns and looks back over his shoulder, and she reflexively ducks to the side lest he happen to see her in the window.

A moment later she peeks again to see him disappear into the forest.

_What is he doing?_

She watches the spot where he disappeared, not knowing why she is still staring. _He's hidden by the trees now, you're not going to see anything…_

Suddenly there is a flash within the trees and a narrow plume of fire rises from the treetops to the sky.

"Merlin!" she gasps, fearing for his safety now. But as she watches, he emerges from the forest, smiling and relaxed.

His hands are empty.

Gwen stares. She watches as he saunters casually back to the castle. She looks back at the forest, where the barest wisp of smoke is yet rising from the spot where she saw the plume.

_I knew it._

-End-


End file.
